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•The   youth   had  to  cling  fast  around  his  neck  to  save 
himself  a  lot  of  broken  bones" 


THE  BOY 
LAND    BOOMER 

O  R 

DICK      ARBUCKLE'S 
ADVENTURES  IN  OKLAHOMA 


BY 

CAPTAIN  RALPH  BONEHILL 

AUTHOR   OF 

"THREE  YOUNG  RANCHMEN," 
"A    SAILOR    BOY    WITH    DEWEY,"    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  W.  H.  FRY 


H.    M.    CAL DWELL    COMPANY 
NEW  YORK  Publishers  BOSTON 


COPYRIGHT,  1902, 

BY 
THE  SAAI.FIELD   PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


Made  by 

Robert  Smith  Printing  Co., 
Lansing,  Mich. 


?S  3S37 


\C!\0^ 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAOB 

"The  youth  had  to  cling   fast  around   his  neck  to  save 

himself  a  lot  of  broken  bones  " Fronttspiea 

"The  next  instant  the  boy  was    hurled  headlong  into 

the  boiling  and  foaming  current " 62 

"Dick  had  let  fly  the  jagged  stone,  taking  him  directly 

in  the  forehead  and  keeling  him  over  like  a  tenpin  "  179 

"  In  a  second  more  the  two  men  were  in  a  hand-to-hand 

encounter" .220 


PREFACE. 


"The  Boy  Land  Boomer"  relates  the  adventures  of  a 
lad  who,  with  his  father,  joins  a  number  of  daring 
men  in  an  attempt  to  occupy  the  rich  farming  lands  of 
Oklahoma  before  the  time  when  that  section  of  our 
country  was  thrown  open  to  settlement  under  the 
homestead  act. 

Oklahoma  consists  of  a  tract  of  land  which  formerly 
formed  a  portion  of  the  Indian  Territory.  This  region 
was  much  in  dispute  as  early  as  1884  and  1885,  when 
Captain  "Oklahoma"  Payne  and  Captain  Couch  did 
their  best  to  force  an  entrance  for  the  boomers  under 
them.  Boomers  remained  in  the  neighborhood  for 
years,  and  another  attempt  was  made  to  settle  Okla 
homa  in  1886,  and  up  to  1889,  when,  on  April  22,  the 
land  was  thrown  open  to  settlement  by  a  proclamation 
of  the  President.  The  mad  rush  to  gain  the  best  claims 
followed,  and  some  of  these  scenes  are  related  in  the 
present  volume. 

The  boomers,  who  numbered  thousands,  had  among 
them  several  daring  and  well-known  leaders,  but  not 


Vlll  PREFACE 

one  was  better  known  or  more  daring  than  the  leader 
who  is  known  in  these  pages  as  Pawnee  Brown.  This 
man  was  not  alone  a  great  Indian  scout  and  hunter, 
but  also  one  who  had  lived  much  among  the  Indians, 
could  speak  their  language,  and  who  had  on  several 
occasions  acted  as  interpreter  for  the  Government.  He 
was  well  beloved  by  his  followers,  who  relied  upon 
his  judgment  in  all  things. 

To  some  it  may  seem  that  the  scenes  in  this  book  are 
overdrawn.  Such,  however,  is  not  the  fact.  There 
was  much  of  roughness  in  those  days,  and  the  author 
has  continually  found  it  necessary  to  tone  down  rather 
than  to  exaggerate  in  penning  these  scenes  from  real 
life. 

CAPTAIN  RALPH  BONEHILL. 


THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DICK  ARBUCKLE'S  DISCOVERY. 

"Father!" 

The  call  came  from  a  boy  of  sixteen,  a  bright,  manly 
chap,  who  had  just  awakened  from  an  unusually  sound 
sleep  in  the  rear  end  of  a  monstrous  boomer's  wagon. 

The  scene  was  upon  the  outskirts  of  Arkansas  City, 
situated  near  the  southern  boundary  line  of  Kansas  and 
not  many  miles  from  the  Oklahoma  portion  of  the  In 
dian  Territory. 

For  weeks  the  city  had  been  filling  up  with  boom 
ers  on  their  way  to  pre-empt  land  within  the  con 
fines  of  Oklahoma  as  soon  as  it  became  possible  to 
do  so. 

The  land  in  Oklahoma  had  for  years  been  in  dispute. 
Pioneers  claimed  the  right  to  go  in  and  stake  out 
homesteads,  but  the  soldiers  of  our  government  would 
not  allow  them  to  do  so. 

The  secret  of  the  matter  was  that  the  cattle  kings  of 

(9) 


IO  x       THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

that  section  controlled  everything,  and  as  the  grazing 
land  of  the  territory  was  worth  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  dollars  to  them  they  fought  desperately  to  keep  the 
pioneers  out,  delaying,  in  every  manner  possible,  legis 
lation  which  tended  to  make  the  section  an  absolutely 
free  one  to  would-be  settlers. 

But  now  the  pioneers,  or  boomers  as  they  were  com 
monly  called,  were  tired  of  waiting  for  the  passage  of 
a  law  which  they  knew  must  come  sooner  or  later,  and 
they  intended  to  go  ahead  without  legal  authority. 

It  was  a  dark,  tempestuous  night,  with  the  wind 
blowing  fiercely  and  the  rain  coming  down  at  irregular 
intervals.  On  the  grassy  plain  were  huddled  the  wag 
ons,  animals  and  trappings  of  over  two  hundred  boom 
ers.  Here  and  there  flared  up  the  remains  of  a  camp- 
fire,  but  the  wind  was  blowing  too  strongly  for  these 
to  be  replenished,  and  the  men  had  followed  their  wives 
and  children  into  the  big,  canvas-covered  wagons,  to 
make  themselves  as  comfortable  as  the  crowded  space 
permitted. 

It  was  the  rattle  of  the  rain  on  the  canvas  covering 
of  the  wagon  which  had  aroused  the  boy. 

"I  say  father!"  he  repeated.    "Father!" 

Again  there  was  no  reply,  and,  kicking  aside  the 
blanket  with  which  he  had  been  covered,  Dick  Arbuckle 
clambered  over  some  boxes  piled  high  in  the  center  of 


DICK  ARBUCKLE S  DISCOVERY  II 

the  vehicle  to  where  he  had  left  his  parent  resting  less 
than  three  hours  before. 

"Gone!"  cried  the  lad  in  astonishment.  "What  can 
this  mean?  What  could  take  him  outside  in  such  a 
storm  as  this?  Father!" 

He  now  crawled  to  the  opening  at  the  front  of  the 
wagon  and  called  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  Only  the 
shrieking  of  the  wind  answered  him.  A  dozen  times 
he  cried  out,  then  paused  to  strike  a  somewhat  damp 
match  and  light  a  smoky  lantern  hanging  to  the  front 
ashen  bow  of  the  turnout's  covering.  Holding  the  light 
over  his  head  he  peered  forth  into  the  inky  darkness 
surrounding  the  boomer's  temporary  camp. 

"Not  a  soul  in  sight,"  he  mused.  "It  must  be  about 
midnight.  Can  something  have  happened  to  father? 
He  said  he  felt  rather  strange  in  his  head  when  he  went 
to  bed.  If  only  Jack  Rasco  would  come  back." 

From  the  front  end  of  the  wagon  Dick  Arbuckle 
shifted  back  to  the  rear.  Here  the  same  dreary  outlook 
of  storm,  mud  and  flapping  canvases  presented  itself. 
Not  so  much  as  a  stray  dog  was  in  sight,  and  the  near 
est  wagon  was  twenty  feet  away. 

"I  must  find  out  where  he  is.  Something  is  wrong, 
I  feel  certain  of  it." 

Thus  muttering  to  himself  the  youth  hunted  up  his 
overcoat  and  hat,  put  them  on,  and,  lantern  in  hand, 


12  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

swung  himself  into  the  sea  of  half-submerged  prairie 
grass,  and  stalked  over  to  the  other  wagon  just  men 
tioned. 

"Mike  Delaney !"  he  cried,  kicking  on  the  wagon 
wheel  with  the  toe  of  his  boat;  "Mike  Delaney,  have 
you  seen  my  father  anywhere?'' 

"Sure,  an'  Moike  Delaney  is  not  here,  Dick  Ar- 
buckle,"  came  in  a  female  voice.  "He's  gone  off  wid 
Pawnee  Brown,  and  there's  no  tellin'  whin  he'll  be 
back.  Is  yer  father  gone?" 

"Yes,  and  I  don't  know  where/'  and  now  Dick 
stepped  closer,  as  the  round  and  freckled  face  of  Rosy 
Delaney  peered  forth  from  a  hole  in  the  canvas  end. 
"He  went  to  bed  when  I  did,  and  now  he's  missing." 

"Saints  preserve  us !  Mebbe  the  Injuns  scalped  him 
now,  Dick !"  came  in  a  voice  full  of  terror. 

"There  are  no  Indians  around  here,  Mrs.  Delaney," 
answered  the  youth,  half  inclined  to  laugh.  "But  he's 
missing,  and  it's  mighty  strange,  to  say  the  least." 

"He  was  sick,  too,  wasn't  he?" 

"Father  hasn't  been  real  well  for  a  year.  He  left 
New  York  very  largely  in  the  hope  that  this  climate 
would  do  him  some  good." 

"Moike  was  sayin'  his  head  throubles  him  a  good 
bit." 

"So  it  does,  and  that's  why  I  am  so  worried.    When 


DICK  ARBUCKLE'S  DISCOVERY  13 

he  gets  those  awful  pains  he  is  apt  to  walk  away  and 
keep  right  on  without  knowing  where  he  is  going." 

"Poor  mon!  Oi  wisht  Oi  could  help  yez.  Mebbe 
Moike  will  be  back  soon.  Ain't  Jack  Rasco  about?" 

"No,  he  is  off  with  Pawnee  Brown,  too.  Rasco  and 
Brown  have  been  looking  over  the  trails  leading  to 
Oklahoma.  They  are  bound  to  outwit  the  United 
States  cavalry,  for  the  boomers  have  more  right  to  that 
land  than  the  cattle  kings,  and  right  is  always  might  in 
the  end." 

"Especially  wid  Pawnee  on  the  end  o'  it,  Dick.  He's 
a  great  mon,  is  Pawnee,  only  it  do  be  afther  givin'  me 
the  shivers  to  hear  him  spake  the  Pawnee  language 
loike  he  was  a  rale  Injun.  Such  a  foine  scout  as  he  is 
has  no  roight  to  spake  such  a  dirthy  tongue.  How 
illegant  it  would  be  now  if  he  could  spake  rale  Oirish." 

"His  knowledge  of  the  Indian  tongue  has  helped  both 
him  and  our  government  a  good  deal,  Mrs.  Delaney. 
But  I  mustn't  stop  here  talking.  If  my  father " 

A  wild,  unearthly  shriek  cut  short  further  talk  upon 
Dick  Arbuckle's  part.  It  came  from  the  darkness  back 
of  the  camp  and  caused  Mrs.  Delaney  to  draw  back 
and  tumble  to  the  bottom  of  her  house  on  wheels  in 
terror. 

"It's  the  Banshee "  she  began,  when  Dick  inter 
rupted  her. 


*4  THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

''It's  Pumpkin  Bill.  I'd  know  his  voice  a  mile  off," 
he  declared.  "Somebody  ought  to  send  him  back  to 
where  he  belongs.  Creation,  what  a  racket !" 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  voice,  rising  and  falling 
with  the  wind.  The  shrill  shrieking  penetrated  to 
every  wagon,  and  head  after  head  was  thrust  out  of 
the  canvases  to  see  what  it  meant.  In  another  minute 
Pumpkin  Bill,  the  dunce  of  the  boomer's  camp,  "a 
nobody  from  nowhar,"  to  use  Cal  Clemmer's  words, 
came  rushing  along,  hatless  and  with  his  wild  eyes 
fairly  starting  from  their  sockets. 

"Save  me!  a  ghost!"  he  yelled,  swinging  his  hands 
over  his  head.  "A  ghost  full  of  blood !  Oh,  oh !  I'm 
a  dead  boy!  I  know  I  am!  Stop  him  from  follow 
ing  me !" 

"Pumpkin !"  ejaculated  Dick,  striding  up  and  catch 
ing  the  fleeing  lad  by  the  arm.  "Hold  on ;  what's  this 
racket  about?" 

The  dunce  paused,  then  stood  stock  still,  his  mouth 
opening  to  its  widest  extent.  He  was  far  from  bright, 
and  it  took  him  several  seconds  to  put  into  words  what 
was  passing  in  his  mind. 

"About,  about  ?"  he  repeated.  "Dick  Arbuckle !  Oh, 
dear  me!  I've  seen  your  father's  ghost!" 

"Pumpkin!" 

"Yes,  I  did.    Hope  to  die  if  I  didn't.    I  was  just 


DICK  ARBUCKLE'S  DISCOVERY  15 

coming  to  camp  from  town.  Some  men  kept  me,  and 
made  me  sing  and  dance  for  them — you  know  how  I 
can  sing — tra-la-la-da-do-da-bum !  They  promised  me 
a  dollar,  but  didn't  give  it  to  me.  I  was  running  to  get 
out  of  the  wet  when  I  plumped  into  something  fearful 
— a  ghost!  Your  father,  covered  with  blood,  and 
groaning  and  moaning,  'Robbed,  robbed ;  almost  mur 
dered  !'  That's  what  the  ghost  said,  and  he  caught  me 
by  the  hand.  See,  the  blood  is  there  yet,  even  though 
I  did  try  to  wash  it  off  in  the  rain.  Oh,  Dick,  what 
does  it  mean?" 

"It  means  something  awful  has  happened,  Pumpkin, 
if  your  story  is  true " 

"Hope  to  die  if  it  ain't,"  and  the  dunce  crossed  his 
heart  several  times.  Suddenly,  to  keep  up  his  courage, 
he  burst  into  a  wild  snatch  of  song : 

"A  big  babboon 
Glared  at  the  moon, 

And  sang  la-la-la-dum ! 
'Come  down  to  me 
And  I  will  be 

Your  lardy-dardy '  " 

"Stop  it,  Pumpkin,"  interrupted  Dick.  "Come  along 
with  me." 
"To  where?" 

"To  where  you  saw  my  father." 
"Not  for  a  million  dollars — not  for  a  million  mil- 


l6  THE  BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

lion!"  cried  the  half-witted  boy.  "It  wasn't  your 
father ;  it  was  a  ghost,  all  covered  with  blood !"  and  he 
shrank  back  under  the  Delaney  wagon. 

''It  was  my  father,  Pumpkin;  I  am  sure  of  it.  He 
is  missing,  and  something  has  happened  to  him.  Per 
haps  he  fell  and  hurt  himself.  Come  on." 

The  dunce  stopped  short  and  stared. 

"Missing,  is  he?  Then  it  wasn't  a  ghost.  La-la- 
dum!  What  a  joke.  Will  you  go  along,  too?" 

".Of  course/1' 

"And  take  a  pistol?" 

"Yes." 

"Poor  mon,  Oi  thrust  he  is  not  very  much  hurted," 
broke  in  Rosy  Delaney,  who  had  been  a  close  listener 
to  the  foregoing.  "If  he  is,  Dick  Arbuckle,  bring  him 
here,  an'  it's  Rosy  Delaney  will  nurse  him  wid  th'  best 
of  care." 

As  has  been  said,  many  had  heard  Pumpkin  Bill's 
wild  cries,  but  now  that  he  had  quieted  down  these 
boomers  returned  to  their  couches,  grumbling  that  the 
half-witted  lad  should  thus  be  allowed  to  disturb  their 
rest. 

In  a  minute  Dick  Arbuckle  and  Pumpkin  were 
hurrying  along  the  road  the  dunce  had  previously  trav 
elled.  The  rain  was  letting  up  a  bit,  and  the  smoky 


DICK  ARBUCKLE  S  DISCOVERY  1 7 

lantern  lit  up  the  surroundings  for  a  circle  thirty  feet 
in  diameter. 

"Here  is  where  I  met  him,"  said  Pumpkin,  coming  to 
a  halt  near  the  edge  of  a  small  stream.  "There's  the 
hat  he  knocked  off  my  head."  He  picked  it  up.  "Oh, 
dear  me !  covered  with  blood !  Did  you  ever  see  the 
like?" 

Dick  was  more  disturbed  than  ever. 

"Which  way  did  he  go?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Didn't  you  notice  at  all,  Pumpkin  ?    Try  to  think." 

"Nary  a  notice.  I  ran,  that's  all.  It  looked  like  a 
bloody  ghost.  I'll  dream  about  it,  I  know  I  will." 

To  this  Dick  did  not  answer.  Getting  down  on  his 
knees  in  the  wet  he  examined  the  trail  by  the  lantern's 
rays.  The  footsteps  which  he  thought  must  be  those 
of  his  father  led  around  a  bend  in  the  stream  and  up  a 
series  of  rocks  covered  with  moss  and  dirt.  With  his 
heart  thumping  violently  under  his  jacket  he  followed 
the  footprints  until  the  very  summit  of  the  rocks  was 
gained.  Then  he  let  out  a  groan  of  anguish. 

And  not  without  cause.  Beyond  the  summit  was  a 
dark  opening  fifteen  feet  wide,  a  hundred  or  more  feet 
long  and  of  unfathomable  depth.  The  footprints  ended 
at  the  very  edge  of  this  yawning  abyss. 


CHAPTER  II. 

DICK   ON    A   RUNAWAY. 

"If  he  fell  down  here  he  is  dead  beyond  all  doubt !" 

Such  were  Dick  Arbuckle's  words  as  he  tried  in  vain 
to  pierce  the  gloom  of  the  abyss  by  flashing  around  tho 
smoky  lantern. 

"Gosh !  I  reckon  you're  right,"  answered  Pumpkin 
in  an  awe-struck  whisper.  "It  must  be  a  thousand  feet 
to  the  bottom  of  that  hole !" 

"If  I  had  a  rope  I  might  lower  myself/'  went  on  the 
youth,  with  quiet  determination.  "But  without  a 
rope " 

A  pounding  of  hoof-strokes  on  the  grassy  trail  below 
the  rocks  caused  him  to  stop  and  listen  attentively. 

"Somebody  is  coming.  I'll  see  if  I  can  get  help  I"  he 
cried,  and  ran  down  to  the  trail,  swinging  his  lantern 
over  his  head  as  he  went.  In  ten  seconds  a  horseman 
burst  into  view,  riding  a  beautiful  racing  steed.  The 
newcomer  was  a  well-known  leader  of  the  land  boom 
ers,  who  rejoiced  in  the  name  of  Pawnee  Brown. 
(18) 


DICK  ON  A  RUNAWAY  19 

"Ai !  Pawnee  Brown !"  cried  Dick,  and  at  once  the 
leader  of  the  land  boomers  came  to  a  halt. 

"What  is  it,  Arbuckle?"  he  asked  kindly. 

"My  father  is  missing,  and  I  have  every  reason  to 
fear  that  he  has  tumbled  into  an  opening  at  the  summit 
of  yonder  rocks." 

"That's  bad,  lad.     Missing?     Since  when?" 

Dick's  story  was  soon  told,  and  Pawnee  Brown  at 
once  agreed  to  go  up  to  the  opening  and  see  if  anything 
could  be  done.  "It's  the  Devil's  Chimney,"  he  ex 
plained.  "If  he  went  over  into  it  I'm  afraid  he's  a 
goner." 

A  lariat  hung  from  the  pommel  of  the  scout's  saddle, 
and  this  he  took  in  hand  as  he  dismounted.  Soon  he 
stood  by  the  edge  of  the  black  opening,  while  Dick 
again  waved  the  lantern. 

'You  and  the  dunce  can  lower  me  by  the  lariat.  I 
don't  believe  the  opening  is  more  than  fifty  feet  deep," 
said  Pawnee  Brown. 

The  lariat  was  quickly  adjusted  around  the  edge  of 
a  smooth  rock,  and  with  his  foot  in  a  noose  and  the 
lantern  in  hand,  the  scout  was  lowered  into  the  depths 
of  the  opening. 

Down  and  down  he  went,  the  light  finding  nothing 
but  bare,  rocky  wall  to  fall  upon.  Presently  the  lower 
ing  process  ceased. 


2O  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

"We  have  reached  the  end  of  the  lariat,"  called  out 
Dick. 

Hardly  had  he  spoken  when  a  fearful  thing  hap 
pened.  There  was  a  snap  and  a  whirr,  and  Dick  and 
Pumpkin  went  flat  on  their  backs,  while  ten  feet  of 
the  lariat  whirled  loosely  over  their  heads. 

The  improvised  rope  had  broken. 

"Gone !"  gasped  Dick.    "Merciful  heavens !" 

He  scrambled  up  and  looked  over  the  edge  of  the 
opening.  The  lantern  had  been  dashed  into  a  thousand 
pieces,  and  all  was  dark  below. 

"Pawnee  Brown !"  he  cried,  and  Pumpkin  joined  in 
with  a  cry  which  was  fairly  a  shriek. 

The  opening  remained  as  silent  as  a  tomb.  Again 
and  again  both  called  out.  Then  Dick  turned  to  his 
companion. 

"This  is  awful,  Pumpkin.  Something  must  be  done. 
I  shall  mount  his  mare  and  ride  back  to  camp  and  get 
help.  For  all  I  know  to  the  contrary  both  my  father 
and  Pawnee  Brown  are  lying  dead  below." 

"I  shan't  stay  here  alone,"  shivered  the  half-witted 
boy.  Then,  before  Dick  could  stop  him,  he  set  off  at 
the  top  of  his  speed,  yelling  discordantly  as  he  went. 

"Poor  fool,  he  might  have  ridden  with  me,"  thought 
Dick. 

He  was  already  rushing  down  to  the  trail.    Now  he 


DICK  ON  A  RUNAWAY  21 

remembered  that  he  had  heard  a  strange  noise  down 
where  Pawnee  Brown's  beautiful  mare,  Bonnie  Bird, 
had  been  tethered — a  noise  reaching  him  just  before  the 
lariat  had  parted.  What  could  that  mean  ? 

He  reached  the  clump  of  trees  where  Bonnie  Bird 
should  have  been.  The  mare  was  gone! 

"Broken  away!"  he  groaned.  "Was  ever  such  luck 
before!  Everything  is  going  wrong  tonight!  Poor 
father;  poor  Pawnee  Brown!  I  must  leg  it  to  camp 
just  as  Pumpkin  is  doing.  Hullo!'' 

He  had  started  to  run,  but  now  he  pulled  up  short. 
Grazing  in  the  wet  grass  not  a  dozen  steps  away  was 
a  bay  horse,  full  and  round,  a  perfect  beast.  At  first 
Dick  Arbuckle  thought  he  must  be  dreaming.  He 
ran  up  rubbing  his  eyes.  No,  it  was  no  dream;  the 
horse  was  as  real  as  a  horse  could  be.  He  was  bridled, 
but  instead  of  a  saddle  wore  only  a  patch  of  a  blanket. 

"It's  a  Godsend,"  he  murmured.  "I  don't  know 
whom  you  belong  to,  old  boy,  but  you've  got  to  carry 
me  back  to  camp,  and  that,  too,  at  a  licking  gait,  you 
understand  ?" 

The  horse  pricked  up  his  ears  and  gave  a  snort.  In 
a  trice  Dick  was  on  his  back  and  urging  him  around 
in  the  proper  direction.  He  was  a  New  York  boy,  not 
mucn  used  to  riding,  and  the  management  of  such  a 
beast  as  this  one  did  not  come  easy.  The  horse  arose 


22  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

upon  his  forelegs  and  nearly  pitched  Dick  over  his 
head,  and  the  youth  had  to  cling  fast  around  his  neck  to 
save  himself  a  lot  of  broken  bones. 

"Whoa,  there!  Gee  Christopher,  what  a  tartar! 
Whoa,  I  say!  If  only  I  had  a  whip!"  he  panted,  as 
the  horse  began  to  move  around  on  a  pivot.  "Now, 
why  can't  you  act  nice,  when  I'm  in  such  dire  need 
of  your  services?  If  you  don't  stop — Whoa!  whoa!" 

For  the  horse  had  suddenly  stopped  pivoting  and 
started  off  like  a  streak,  not  up  or  down  the  trail,  but 
across  a  stretch  of  prairie  grass.  On  and  on  he  went, 
the  bit  between  his  teeth  and  gaining  speed  at  every 
step.  In  "vain  Dick  yelled  at  him,  kicked  him  and 
banged  him  on  the  head.  It  was  of  no  use,  and  he  had 
to  cling  on  for  dear  life. 

"I  might  as  well  let  him  go  and  jump  for  it,"  he 
thought  at  last,  when  nearly  a  mile  had  been  covered. 
"It's  just  as  useless  to  try  to  stop  him  as  it  would  be  to 
stop  a  limited  express.  If  I  jump  off — but  I  won't, 
now !" 

For  the  prairie  had  been  left  behind,  and  the  bay  was 
tearing  along  a  rocky  trail  leading  to  goodness  knew 
where,  so  Dick  thought.  A  jump  now  would  mean 
broken  bones,  perhaps  death.  He  clung  tighter  than 
ever,  and  tried  to  calm  the  horse  by  speaking  gently  to 
him. 


DICK  ON   A   RUNAWAY  2$ 

At  first  the  beast  would  not  listen,  but  finally,  when 
several  miles  had  been  covered  he  slackened  up,  and  at 
last  dropped  into  a  walk.  He  was  covered  with  foam, 
and  now  he  was  quite  willing  to  be  led. 

"You  old  reprobate!"  muttered  Dick,  as  he  tight 
ened  his  hold  on  the  reins.  "Now  where  in  the  name 
of  creation  have  you  brought  me  to,  and  how  am  I  to 
find  my  way  back  to  camp  from  here  ?" 

Sitting  upright  once  again,  the  youth  tried  to  pierce 
the  darkness.  The  rain  had  stopped,  only  a  few 
scattering  drops  falling  upon  himself  and  the  steam 
ing  animal,  but  the  darkness  was  as  great  as  ever. 

On  two  sides  of  him  were  forest  lands,  on  the  third 
a  slope  of  rocks  and  on  the  fourth  a  stretch  of  dwarf 
grass.  The  trail,  if  such  it  could  be  called,  ran  along 
the  edge  pf  the  timber.  Should  he  follow  this?  He 
moved  along  slowly,  wondering  whether  he  was  right 
or  wrong. 

"Halt!    Who  goes  there?" 

It  was  a  military  challenge,  coming  out  of  the  dark 
ness.  Dick  stopped  the  horse,  and  presently  made  out 
the  form  of  a  man  on  horseback,  a  cavalryman. 

"I'm  a  friend  who  has  lost  the  way,"  began  the 
youth,  when  the  cavalryman  let  out  a  cry  of  surprise. 

"Tucker's  horse,  hang  me  if  it  isn't !    Boy,  where  did 


24  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

you  get  that  nag?  Tucker,  Ross,  come  here!  I've  col 
lared  one  of  the  horse-thieves !" 

In  a  moment  more  there  came  the  clatter  of  horses' 
hoofs  through  the  timber,  and  Dick  found  himself  sur 
rounded  by  three  big  and  decidedly  ugly-looking 
United  States  cavalrymen — troopers  who  belonged  to 
a  detachment  set  to  guard  the  Oklahoma  territory  from 
invasion. 

"A  boy  and  a  boomer!"  ejaculated  the  fellow  named 
Tucker.  "I  saw  the  kid  over  near  Arkansas  City  a 
couple  of  days  ago.  And  riding  Chester,  too !  Git  off 
that  hoss,  before  I  kick  you  off !" 

And  riding  up  he  caught  Dick  by  the  collar  and 
yanked  him  to  the  ground.  In  an  instant  he  was  beside 
the  boy  and  had  produced  a  pair  of  reservation  hand 
cuffs. 

"Out  with  your  hands,  sonny,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

"What  for?"  asked  Dick,  somewhat  bewildered  by 
the  unceremonious  way  in  which  he  was  being  handled. 
"I  didn't  steal  that  horse." 

"Too  thin,  sonny.  All  you  boomers  are  a  set  of 
thieves,  and  I  suppose  you  think  stealing  our  hossflesh 
is  the  rarest  kind  of  a  joke.  Out  with  those  hands, 
I  say,  and  consider  yourself  a  prisoner  of  Uncle  Sam. 
You've  nearly  ridden  Chester  to  death  and  for  two 


DICK  ON   A   RUNAWAY  25 

pins  I'd  take  the  law  into  my  own  hands  and  string 
you  up  to  the  nearest  tree.  Take  that !" 

And  having  handcuffed  Dick  the  cavalryman  let  out 
with  his  heavy  right  hand  and  landed  a  savage  slap 
that  sent  the  helpless  youth  headlong  at  his  feet. 

The  blow  aroused  all  of  the  lion  in  the  youth's  make 
up.  As  quickly  as  he  could  he  leaped  up. 

"You  brute!"  he  cried.  "Why  don't  you  fight  fair? 
Take  that,  and  that  and  that !" 

Each  "that"  meant  two  blows,  for  Dick  could  not 
separate  his  hands,  and  therefore  struck  out  with  both 
at  a  time — two  in  the  chest,  two  on  the  chin  and  the 
final  pair  on  either  side  of  Tucker's  big  and  reddish 
nose.  The  cavalryman,  taken  by  surprise,  let  out  a 
cry  of  rage  and  pain. 

"You  imp!"  he  screamed.  "To  hit  a  man  in  uni 
form  !  I'll  show  you  what  I  can  do !  How  do  you  like 
that?" 

With  incredible  swiftness  he  drew  his  heavy  sabre 
and  leaped  upon  Dick.  The  boy  tried  to  retreat,  but 
slipped  on  the  wet  ground  and  went  down.  On  the 
instant  Tucker  was  upon  him,  and,  with  a  fierce  cry, 
the  infuriated  cavalryman  raised  his  blade  over  Dick's 
head. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  CAVE  AND  A  CAVE-IN. 

Let  us  go  back  and  see  what  happened  to  Pawnee 
Brown  at  the  time  the  lariat  parted  and  he  found 
himself  going  down  into  what  seemed  bottomless  space. 

Instinctively  he  put  out  both  hands  as  far  as  he  was 
able,  to  grasp  anything  which  might  come  within  reach 
and  thereby  check  his  awful  downward  course. 

The  lantern  fell  from  his  fingers  and  jingled  to  pieces 
on  a  protruding  rock. 

Then  his  right  hand  slid  over  the  ends  of  a  bush 
growing  out  of  a  fissure.  He  caught  the  bush  and 
held  on  like  grim  death. 

The  bush  gave  way,  but  not  instantly,  and  his  descent 
was  checked  so  that  the  tumble  to  the  bottom  of  the 
hole,  fifteen  feet  further  down,  was  not  near  as  bad  as 
it  would  otherwise  have  been. 

Yet  he  came  down  sideways,  and  his  head  striking  a 
flat  rock,  he  was  knocked  insensible. 

Half  an  hour  went  by,  and  he  opened  his  eyes  in  a 
wondering  way.     Where  was  he  and  what  had  hap 
pened  ? 
(26) 


A  CAVE  AND  A  CAVE-IN  27 

Soon  the  truth  burst  upon  him,  and  he  staggered  to 
his  feet  to  see  if  any  bones  had  been  broken. 

"All  whole  yet,  thanks  to  my  usual  good  luck/'  he 
thought.  "But  that's  a  nasty  lump  on  the  back  of  my 
head.  Hullo,  up  there!" 

He  called  out  as  loudly  as  he  could,  but  no  answer 
came  back,  for  Dick  and  Pumpkin  were  already  gone. 

"Well,  I  always  allowed  that  I  would  explore  the 
Devil's  Chimney  some  day,  but  I  didn't  calculate  to  do 
it  quite  so  soon,"  he  went  on.  "What  can  have  become 
of  those  boys  ?  Have  they  deserted  me  or  gone  off  for 
help?  If  I  can  read  character  I  fancy  that  Dick  Ar- 
buckle  will  do  all  he  can  for  me — and,  by  the  way,  can 
his  father's  corpse  really  be  down  here?" 

He  brought  forth  a  match  and  lit  it.  The  battered 
lantern  lay  close  at  hand,  and,  although  without  a  glass, 
it  was  still  better  than  nothing,  and,  turned  well  up, 
gave  forth  a  torch-like  flame  which  lit  up  the  sur 
roundings  for  a  dozen  feet  or  more.  No  body  was 
there,  nor  did  he  find  any  for  the  full  distance  up  and 
down  the  dismal  hole. 

"The  boy  was  mistaken;  his  father  wandered  else 
where,"  was  the  boomer's  conclusion.  "Poor  fellow, 
he  was  in  no  mental  or  physical  condition  to  push  his 
claims  in  the  West.  He  should  have  remained  at  home 
and  allowed  some  hustling  Western  lawyer  to  act  for 


28  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

him.  If  he  falls  into  the  clutches  of  some  of  our  land 
agents  they'll  swindle  him  out  of  every  cent  of  his  for 
tune.  I  must  give  him  and  the*  boy  the  tip  when  I  get 
the  chance."  The  great  scout  laughed  softly.  "When 
I  get  the  chance  is  good.  I  reckon  I  had  best  pull 
myself  out  of  this  man-trap  first." 

He  made  a  careful  investigation  of  the  rocks.  At  no 
point  was  there  anything  which  gave  promise  of  a  foot 
ing  to  the  top. 

"In  a  pocket  and  no  error,"  he  mused.  "I  wonder  if 
I've  got  to  stay  here  like  a  bull-croaker  at  the  bottom 
of  a  well?" 

The  rain  had  formed  a  long  pool  between  the  slant 
ing  rocks.  He  threw  a  chip  into  this  pool  and  saw 
that  it  drifted  slowly  off  between  two  scrub  bushes 
growing  partly  under  a  shelving  rock. 

With  the  light  he  made  an  inspection  of  the  locality, 
and  a  cry  of  surprise  escaped  him.  Beyond  the  bushes 
was  the  opening  to  an  irregular,  but  apparently  large 
cavern. 

The  stream  flowed  along  one  side  of  the  flooring  to 
this  opening. 

"Must  be  some  sort  of  an  outlet  beyond,"  he  mused. 
"I'll  try  it  and  see,"  and  in  a  moment  more  he  was  in 
side  of  the  cavern  and  crawling  along  on  hands  and 
knees. 


A  CAVE  AND  A   CAVE- IN  2Q 

He  had  not  far  to  go  in  this  fashion.  Twenty  feet 
beyond  the  cavern  became  so  large  that  he  could  stand 
up  with  ease.  He  flashed  the  light  above  his  head. 

''By  jove!  a  miniature  Mammoth  Cave  of  Ken 
tucky!"  burst  from  his  lips. 

On  he  went  until  a  bend  in  the  formation  of  the  cav 
ern  was  gained.  Here  the  stream  of  water  disappeared 
under  a  pile  of  loose  stones,  and  the  opening  became 
less  than  six  feet  in  height. 

"Checked !"  he  muttered,  and  his  face  fell.  It  looked 
as  if  he  would  have  to  go  back  the  way  he  had  come. 

Again  he  raised  his  light  and  gazed  about  him  with 
more  care  than  ever. 

The  loose  rocks  soon  caught  his  attention,  and,  set 
ting  down  the  lantern,  he  began  to. pull  away  first  at 
one  and  then  another. 

The  last  turned  back,  he  saw  another  opening,  evi 
dently  leading  upward. 

"This  must  lead  to  the  open  air — "  he  began,  when  a 
grinding  of  stone  caught  his  ears.  In  a  twinkle  a  verit 
able  shower  of  rocks  came  down  around  his  head.  He 
was  knocked  flat  and  almost  covered. 

For  fully  ten  minutes  he  lay  gasping  for  breath.  The 
blood  was  flowing  from  a  wound  on  his  cheek,  and  it 
was  a  wonder  that  he  had  not  been  killed. 

"In  the  future  I'll  have  more  care,"  he  groaned,  as, 


3O  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

throwing  first  one  stone  and  then  another  aside,  he  sat 
up.  The  falling  of  the  stones  had  been  followed  by 
some  dirt,  and  now  a  regular  landslide  came  after, 
burying  him  up  to  the  armpits. 

"Planted,"  was  the  single  word  which  issued  from 
his  lips.  He  was  not  seriously  hurt,  and  was  half  in 
clined  to  laugh  at  his  predicament.  Still,  on  the  whole, 
it  was  no  laughing  matter,  and  Pawnee  Brown  lost  no 
time  in  trying  to  dig  himself  free. 

The  stones  and  dirt  were  wedged  tightly  about  his 
legs,  and  not  wishing  to  run  the  risk  of  a  broken  or 
twisted  ankle,  the  scout  worked  with  care,  all  the  time 
wondering  if  Dick  Arbuckle  was  back,  and  never  once 
dreaming  of  the  peril  the  poor  lad  was  encountering. 
The  rain  was  soaking  through  the  ceiling  of  the  cavern, 
and  the  situation  was  far  from  a  comfortable  one. 

At  last  he  was  free  again,  and  striking  a  match,  he 
hunted  up  the  lantern  and  lit  it  once  more. 

The  opening  to  the  inner  cave  was  now  large  enough 
to  pass  through  with  ease,  and  making  sure  of  his  foot 
ing,  the  scout  moved  forward,  straining  his  eyes  eager 
ly  for  some  sign  of  an  egress  to  the  outer  world. 

Presently  he  saw  a  number  of  straggly  things  dang 
ling  downward  from  the  rocks  and  soil  overhead. 

They  were  the  bottom  roots  of  some  great  tree  stand 
ing  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  above. 


A  CAVE  AND  A  CAVE-IN  3! 

"Not  far  from  the  surface  now,  that's  certain,"  he 
thought,  with  considerable  satisfaction.  "And  yet, 
hang  me  if  I  can  see  an  opening  of  any  sort  yet.*' 

On  and  on  he  went,  until  nearly  a  hundred  feet  more 
had  been  passed. 

The  cave  had  widened  out,  but  now  it  narrowed  once 
again  to  less  than  a  dozen  feet.  The  roof,  too,  sloped 
downward  until  it  occasionally  scraped  the  crown  of 
his  sombrero. 

The  light  of  the  lantern  began  to  splutter  and  flare 
up,  showing  that  the  oil  in  the  cup  was  running  low. 

"If  only  the  thing  lasts  until  I  find  the  door  to  this 
confounded  prison,"  he  thought. 

Suddenly  a  peculiar  hiss  sounded  out  upon  the  dark 
ness. 

Pawnee  Brown  knew  that  hiss  only  too  well,  and 
leaping  back  he  snatched  a  pistol  from  his  belt. 

The  hiss  was  followed  by  a  rattle,  and  now,  flashing 
the  light  around,  the  scout  saw  upon  a  flat  rock  the 
curled-up  form  of  a  huge  rattlesnake. 

The  eyes  of  the  reptile  shone  like  twin  stars,  and 
when  Pawnee  Brown  discovered  him  he  was  getting 
ready  to  strike. 

The  rattler  was  less  than  six  feet  away,  and  the  scout 
knew  that  he  could  cover  that  space  with  ease.  There 
fore,  whatever  was  to  be  done  must  be  done  quickly. 


32  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

Like  a  flash  the  pistol  came  up.  But  ere  Pawnee 
Brown  could  fire  a  curious  thing  happened. 

A  large  drop  of  water,  splashing  down  from  the  roof 
of  the  cavern,  caused  the  light  to  splutter  and  go  out. 

The  scout  was  in  the  dark  with  his  enemy. 

More  than  this,  he  was  boxed  up  in  a  narrow  place, 
from  which  escape  was  well-nigh  impossible. 

Aiming  as  best  he  could  under  the  circumstances,  he 
fired. 

The  bullet  struck  the  flat  rock,  bounded  up  to  the  side 
wall  of  the  cavern  and  then  hit  him  in  the  leg. 

"Missed,  by  thunder!" 

He  jumped  past  the  spot  and  moved  up  the  cavern  a 
distance  of  several  yards. 

A  rattle  and  a  whirr  followed,  as  the  great  rattle 
snake  made  a  vicious  strike  in  the  dark.  An  intense 
hiss  sounded  out  when  the  reptile  realized  that  the  ob 
ject  of  his  anger  had  been  missed. 

Listening  with  strained  ears,  the  boomer  heard  the 
deadly  thing  sliding  slowly  from  rock  to  rock,  coming 
closer  at  every  movement. 

To  flee  was  impossible,  so  with  bated  breath  he  stood 
his  ground. 


CHAPTER    IV.      • 

OUT  OF  THE  CAVERN. 

Slowly  but  surely  the  great  rattlesnake  came  closer 
to  where  Pawnee  Brown  stood  motionless  in  the  dark 
ness  of  the  cavern. 

The  reptile  had  been  enraged  by  the  shot  the  great 
scout  fired,  and  now  meant  to  strike,  and  that  fatally. 

Listening  with  ears  strained  to  their  utmost,  the 
boomer  heard  the  form  of  the  snake  slide  from  rock  to 
rock  of  the  uneven  flooring. 

The  rattler  was  all  of  ten  feet  long  and  as  thick 
around  as  a  good-sized  fence  rail. 

One  square  strike  from  those  poisonous  fangs  and 
Pawnee  Brown's  hours  would  be  numbered. 

Yet  the  scout  did  not  intend  to  give  up  his  life  just 
now.  He  still  held  his  pistol,  four  chambers  of  which 
were  loaded. 

"If  only  I  had  a  light,"  he  thought. 

Retreat  was  out  of  the  question.  A  single  sound  and 
the  rattlesnake  would  have  been  upon  him  like  a  flash. 

It  was  only  the  darkness  and  the  utter  silence  that 
made  the  reptile  cautious, 

(33) 


34  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

Suddenly  the  scout  heard  a  scraping  on  the  rocks  less 
than  three  feet  in  front  of  him. 

The  time  for  action  had  come ;  another  moment  and 
the  rattler  would  be  wound  around  his  legs. 

Crack!  crack!  Two  reports  rang  out  in  quick  suc 
cession  and  by  the  flash  of  the  first  shot  Pawnee  Brown 
located  those  glittering  eyes. 

The  second  shot  went  true  to  its  mark,  and  the  rat 
tler  dropped  back  with  a  hole  through  its  ugly  head. 

The  long,  whiplike  body  slashed  hither  and  thither, 
and  the  scout  had  to  do  some  lively  sprinting  to  keep 
from  getting  a  tangle  and  a  squeeze. 

As  he  hopped  about  he  struck  a  match,  picked  up  the 
lantern,  shook  the  little  oil  remaining  into  the  wick  and 
lit  it.  Another  shot  finished  the  snake  and  the  body 
curled  up  into  a  snarl  and  a  quiver,  to  bother  him  no 
more. 

It  was  then  that  Pawnee  Brown  paused,  drew  a  deep 
breath  and  wiped  the  cold  perspiration  from  his  brow. 

"By  gosh !  I've  killed  fifty  rattlers  in  my  time,  but 
never  one  in  this  fashion,"  he  murmured.  "Wonder 
if  there  are  any  more  around?" 

He  knew  that  these  snakes  often  travel  in  pairs,  and 
as  he  went  on  his  way  he  kept  his  eyes  wide  open  for 
another  attack. 

But  none  came,  and  now  something  else  claimed  his 
attention. 


OUT  OF  THE  CAVERN  35 

The  cavern  was  coming  to  an  end.  The  side  walls 
closed  in  to  less  than  three  feet,  and  the  flooring  sloped 
up  so  that  he  had  to  crouch  down  and  finally  go  for 
ward  on  his  hands  and  knees. 

The  lantern  now  went  out  for  good,  every  drop  of  oil 
being  exhausted. 

At  this  juncture  many  a  man  would  have  halted  and 
tunned  back  to  where  he  had  come  from,  but  such  was 
not  Pawnee  Brown's  intention. 

"I'll  see  the  thing  through,"  he  muttered.  "I'd  like 
to  know  how  far  I  am  from  the  surface  of  the  ground." 

A  dozen  yards  further  and  the  cavern  become  so 
small  that  additional  progress  was  impossible. 

He  placed  his  hand  above  him  and  encountered  noth 
ing  but  dirt,  with  here  and  there  a  small  stone. 

With  care  he  began  to  dig  away  at  the  dirt  with  his 
knife.  Less  than  a  foot  of  the  cavern  ceiling  had  thus 
been  dug  away  when  the  point  of  the  knife  brought 
down  a  small  stream  of  water. 

Feeling  certain  he  was  now  close  to  the  surface,  he 
continued  to  work  with  renewed  vigor. 

"At  last!" 

The  scout  was  right.  The  knife  had  found  the  outer 
air,  and  a  dim,  uncertain  light  struck  down  upon  the 
hero  of  the  plains. 


36  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

It  did  not  take  long  to  enlarge  the  opening  sufficient 
ly  to  admit  the  passage  of  Pawnee  Brown's  body,. 

He  leaped  out  among  a  number  of  bushes  and 
stretched  himself. 

Having  brushed  the  dirt  from  his  wet  clothing,  he! 
"located  himself,"  as  he  put  it,  and  started  up  a  hill  to 
the  entrance  to  the  Devil's  Chimney. 

He  was  on  the  side  opposite  to  that  from  which  he 
had  descended,  and,  in  order  to  get  over,  had  to  make 
a  wide  detour  through  some  brush  and  small  timber. 

This  accomplished,  he  hurried  to  where  he  had  left 
Bonnie  Bird  tethered. 

As  the  reader  knows,  the  beautiful  mare  was  gone, 
and  had  been  for  some  time. 

"I  suppose  that  young  Arbuckle  took  her,"  he  mused. 
"But,  if  so,  why  doesn't  he  come  back  here  with  her?" 

There  being  no  help  for  it,  the  scout  set  off  for  the 
camp  of  the  boomers  on  foot. 

He  was  just  entering  the  temporary  settlement  when 
he  came  face  to  face  with  Jack  Rasco,  another  of  the 
boomers. 

"Pawnee!"  shouted  the  boomer,  "You  air  jess  the 
man  I  want  ter  see.  Hev  ye  sot  eyes  on  airy  o'  Jhe 
Arbuckles?" 

"I'm  looking  for  Dick  Arbuckle  now,"  answered  the 


OUT  OF  THE  CAVERN  37 

scout.  "Isn't  he  in  the  camp?  I  thought  he  came 
here  with  my  mare  ?" 

"He  ain't  nowhar.  Rosy  Delaney  says  he  went  off 
with  Pumpkin  to  look  for  his  dad^who  had  disap 
peared " 

"Then  he  didn't  come  back?  What  can  have  be 
come  of  him  and  Bonnie  Bird  ?"  Pawnee  Brown's  face 
grew  full  of  concern.  "Something  is  wrong  around 
here,  Jack,"  he  continued,  and  told  the  boomer  of 
what  had  happened  up  at  the  Devil's  Chimney.  "First 
it's  the  father,  and  now  it's  the  son  and  my  mare.  I 
must  investigate  this." 

"I'm  with  yer,  Pawnee — with  yer  to  the  end.  Yer 
know  thet." 

"Yes,  Jack;  you  are  one  of  the  few  men  I  know  I 
can  trust  in  everything.  But  two  of  us  are  not  enough. 
If  harm  has  befallen  the  Arbuckles  it  is  the  duty  of  the 
whole  camp — or,  at  least,  every  man  in  it — to  try  to 
sift  matters  to  the  bottom." 

"Right  ye  air,  Pawnee.  I'll  raise  a  hullabaloo  and 
rouse  'em  up." 

Jack  Rasco  was  as  good  as  his  word.  Going  from 
wagon  to  wagon,  he  shook  the  sleepers  and  explained 
matters.  In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  a  dozen  stal 
wart  boomers  were  in  the  saddle,  while  Jack  Rasco 


38  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

brought  forth  an  extra  horse  of  his  own  for  Brown's 
use. 

"Has  anybody  seen  the  dunce?"  questioned  the  scout. 

No  one  had  since  he  had  gone  off  with  Dick  to  look 
for  the  so-called  ghost. 

"We  will  divide  up  into  parties  of  two,"  said  Pawnee 
Brown,  and  this  was  done,  and  soon  he  and  Jack 
Rasco  were  bounding  over  the  trail  leading  toward  the 
Indian  Territory,  while  others  were  setting  off  in  the 
direction  of  Arkansas  City  and  elsewhere. 

"Something  curious  about  them  air  Arbuckles,"  ob 
served  Rasco  as  they  flew  along  side  by  side.  "Mor 
timer  Arbuckle  said  as  how  he  was  coming  hyer  fer 
his  health,  but  kick  me  ef  I  kin  see  it." 

"I  think  myself  the  man  has  an  axe  to  grind,"  re 
sponded  the  leader  of  the  boomers.  "You  know  he 
came  West  to  see  about  some  land." 

"Oh,  I  know  thet.  But  thar's  somethin'  else,  sure  ez 
shootin'  ez  shootin',  Pawnee.  It  kinder  runs  in  my 
noddle  thet  he  is  a'lookin'  fer  somebuddy." 

"Who?" 

"Ah,  thar's  where  ye  hev  got  me.  But  I'll  tell  ye 
something.  One  night  when  the  boy  wuz  over  ter 
Arkansas  City  the  old  man  war  sleeping  in  the  wagon, 
an'  he  got  a  nightmare.  He  clenched  his  fists  an'  be 
gun  ter  moan  an'  groan.  'Don't  say  I  did  it,  Bolange,' 


OUT  OF  THE  CAVERN  39 

he  moans.  'Don't  say  that — it's  an  awful  crime !  Don't 
put  the  blood  on  my  head !'  an'  a  lot  more  like  thet,  till 
my  blood  most  run  cold  an'  I  shook  him  ter  make  him 
wake  up.  Now,  don't  thet  look  like  he  had  something 
on  his  mind?" 

"It  certainly  does,  and  yet  the  man  is  not  quite  right 
in  his  upper  story,  although  I  wouldn't  tell  the  son  that, 
Rasco:  But  what  was  the  name  he  mentioned  ?" 

"Bolange,  or  Volange,  or  something  like  thet.  It 
seems  ter  me  he  hollered  out  Louis  onct,  too." 

A  sudden  light  shone  in  the  great  scout's  eyes.  He 
gripped  his  companion  by  the  arm. 

"Try  to  think,  Jack.  Did  Arbuckle  speak  the  name 
of  Vorlange — Louis  Vorlange?" 

"By  gosh !  Pawnee,  you  hev  struck  it — Vorlange,  ez 
plain  ez  day.  Do  yer  know  the  man  ?" 

"Do  I  know  him?"  Pawnee  Brown  drew  a  long 
breath.  "Jack,  I  believe  I  once  told  you  about  my 
schoolboy  days  at  Wellington  and  elsewhere  before  I 
left  home  to  take  up  a  life  on  the  cattle  trails  ?" 

"Yes,  Pawnee.  From  all  accounts  you  wuz  cut  out 
for  a  schoolmaster,  instead  of  a  leader  of  us  boomers." 

"I  was  a  professor  once  at  the  Indian  Industrial 
school  at  Pawnee  Agency.  That  is  where  I  got  to  be 
called  Pawnee  Brown,  and  where  the  Pawnees  became 
so  friendly  that  they  made  me  their  white  chief.  But 


4O  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

I  aspired  to  something  more  than  teaching  and  more 
than  cow  punching  in  those  boyhood  days  at  Welling 
ton  ;  I  wanted  to  have  a  try  at  entrance  to  West  Point 
and  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  Grant  and  Custer,  and 
fellows  of  that  sort." 

"Ye  deserved  it,  I'll  bet,  Pawnee." 

"I  worked  hard  for  it,  and  at  last  I  got  a  chance  to 
compete  at  the  examination.  Among  the  other  boys 
who  competed  was  Louis  Vorlange.  He  had  been  the 
bully  of  our  school,  and  more  than  once  we  had  fought, 
and  twice  I  had  sent  him  to  bed  with  a  head  that  was 
nearly  broken.  He  hated  me  accordingly,  and  swore  I 
should  not  win  the  prize  I  coveted." 

"Did  he  try,  too?" 

"Yes,  but  he  was  outclassed  from  the  start,  for,  al 
though  he  was  sly  and  shrewd,  book  learning  was  too 
much  for  him.  The  examination  came  off,  and  I  got 
left,  through  Vorlange,  who  stole  my  papers  and 
changed  many  of  my  answers.  I  didn't  learn  of  this 
until  it  was  too  late.  My  chance  of  going  to  West 
Point  fell  through.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
thrash  Vorlange,  and  the  day  before  I  left  home  I 
gave  him  a  licking  that  I'll  wager  he'll  remember  to  the 
day  of  his  death.  As  it  was,  he  tried  to  shoot  me,  but  I 
collared  the  pistol,  and  for  that  dastardly  attack 
knocked  two  of  his  teeth  down  his  throat." 


OUT  OF  THE  CAVERN  4! 

"Served  him  right,  Pawnee.  But  I  don't  see  whar — " 

"Hold  on  a  minute,  Jack.  I  said  Vorlange  didn't 
go  to  West  Point;  but  he  was  strong  with  the  poli 
ticians,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  old  enough  he  got  a  posi 
tion  under  the  government,  and  now  I  understand  he  is 
somewhere  around  the  Indian  Territory  acting  as  a 
spy  for  the  land  department." 

"By  gosh  !  I  see.  An'  ye  think  Mortimer  Arbuckle 
knows  this  same  chap?" 

"It  would  look  so.  If  I  can  read  faces,  the  old  man 
is  innocent  of  wrong-doing,  and  if  that  is  so  and  there 
is  the  secret  of  a  crime  between  him  and  Louis  Vor 
lange  you  can  wager  Vorlange  is  the  guilty  party." 

"Pawnee,  you  hev  a  head  on  yer  shoulders  fit  fer  a 
judge,  hang  me  ef  ye  ain't,"  burst  out  Jack  Rasco  ad 
miringly.  "I  wish  yer  would  talk  to  Arbuckle  the  next 
time  he  turns  up.  Mebbe  yer  kin  lift  a  weight  off  o' 
his  shoulders.  The  poor  old  fellow — creation!  wot's 
that?" 

Jack  Rasco  stopped  short  and  pulled  up  his  horse. 
A  wild,  unearthly  scream  rent  the  air,  rising  and 
falling  on  the  wind  of  the  night.  The  scream  was  fol 
lowed  by  a  burst  of  laughter  which  was  truly  demoni 
acal. 

Pawnee  Brown  pulled  his  horse  up  on  his  haunches. 
What  was  this  new  mystery  which  confronted  him? 


42  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

Again  the  cry  rang  out;  but  now  the  scout  recog 
nized  it  and  a  faint  smile  shone  upon  his  face. 

"It's  the  dunce,"  he  exclaimed.  "Pumpkin !  Pump 
kin!  Come  here!" 

A  moment  of  silence  followed  and  he  called  again. 
Then  from  the  brush  which  grew  among  the  rocks 
emerged  the  form  of  the  half-witted  boy. 

"Pumpkin,  where  is  Dick  Arbuckle?"  questioned 
Pawnee  Brown,  leaping  to  the  ground  and  catching  the 
lad  by  his  arm. 

"Lemme  go!  I  didn't  hurt  him!"  screamed  Pump 
kin.  "He  went  that  way — like  the  wind — on  a  bay 
horse  which  was  running  away.  Oh,  he's  killed,  I 
know  he  is !" 

"You  are  sure  of  this?" 

"Hope  to  die  if  it  ain't  so.  Poor  Dick!  He'll  be 
pitched  off  and  smashed  up  like  his  father  was  smashed 
up.  Hurry,  and  maybe  you  can  catch  him." 

"I  believe  the  dunce  speaks  the  truth,"  broke  in  Jack 
Rasco. 

"How  long  ago  was  this  ?" 

"Not  more'n  an  hour.  Hurry  up  if  you  want  to  save 
him,"  and  with  a  yell  such  as  he  had  uttered  before, 
Pumpkin  disappeared. 

Pawnee  Brown  and  Rasco  wasted  no  more  time. 
Whipping  up  their  steeds,  they  set  off  on  a  rapid  gallop 
in  the  direction  the  runaway  horse  had  pursued. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CAVALRYMEN. 

Let  us  re-join  Dick  Arbuckle  at  the  time  that  the 
incensed  cavalryman,  Tucker,  was  about  to  attack  the 
hapless  lad  with  his  heavy  sabre. 

Had  the  cruel  blow  fallen  as  intended  it  is  beyond 
dispute  that  Dick  would  have  been  severely  injured. 

"Don't!"  cried  the  boy,  and  then  closed  his  eyes  at 
the  terrible  thought  of  such  dire  punishment  so  close 
at  hand. 

But  just  at  that  instant  an  interruption  came  from 
out  of  the  darkness  of  the  brush. 

"Hello,  there!    What  are  you  up  to?" 

Tucker  started,  and  the  sabre  was  turned  aside  to 
bury  itself  in  the  exposed  roots  of  a  tree. 

"If  it  ain't  Pawnee  Brown !"  muttered  another  cav 
alryman,  Ross  by  name. 

"Pawnee  Brown!"  burst  from  Dick's  lips,  joyfully, 
and,  rising,  he  attempted  to  rush  toward  his  friend. 

"Not  so  fast,  boy!"  howled  Tucker,  and  caught  the 
youth  by  the  collar. 

(43) 


44  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

"What's  the  meaning  of  this?  What  are  you  doing 
to  that  boy  ?"  asked  Pawnee  Brown  as  he  rode  closer, 
with  Rasco  beside  him. 

"He's  a  horse  thief,  and  we  are  going  to  take  him  to 
our  camp,"  answered  Tucker,  somewhat  uneasily,  for 
he  had  seen  Pawnee  Brown  before  and  knew  he  had  a 
man  of  strong  character  with  whom  to  deal. 

"A  horse  thief!"  ejaculated  Jack  Rasco.  "Say, 
sod'ger,  yer  crazy !  Thet  boy  a  thief !  Wall,  by  gum !" 

'That  boy  is  no  thief,"  put  in  Pawnee  Brown.  "He 
belongs  to  our  camp,  and  is  as  square  as  they  make 
them — I'll  vouch  for  it." 

"I  ain't  taking  the  word  of  any  boomer,"  muttered 
Tucker  sourly.  "That  kid— hold  on !  Don't  shoot!" 

And  he  dropped  back  in  terror,  for  the  great  scout 
had  drawn  his  pistol  like  a  flash. 

"You'll  take  my  word  or  take  something  else,"  came 
the  stiff  response.  "Be  quick,  now,  and  say  which  you 
choose." 

"I  didn't  mean  any  harm,  Pawnee.  Maybe  you 
don't  know  it,  but  the  boy  is  a  thief  just  the  same.  We 
just  caught  him  riding  my  horse — this  bay.  My  com 
rades  can  prove  it." 

"It's  true,"  said  Ross. 

"True  as  gospel,"  added  Skimmy,  the  third  cavalry 
man.  "We  caught  him  less  than  half  an  hour  ago." 


THE   CAVALRYMEN  45 

Without  answering  to  this,  Pawnee  Brown  turned  to 
the  youth. 

'Tell  me  your  yarn,  Dick.  I  know  there  is  some 
mistake  here." 

"There  is  not  much  to  tell,  Major.  When  the  lariat 
broke  up  at  the  Devil's  Chimney  and  I  couldn't  make 
you  reply  to  my  calls  I  ran  off  to  get  help  and  a  rope. 
I  intended  to  ride  your  mare  back  to  camp,  but  when  I 
got  to  where  the  mare  had  been  tethered  I  found  her 
gone  and  this  bay  loafing  around  in  her  place.  I  got  on 
the  bay,  but,  instead  of  riding  to  camp,  the  animal  ran 
away  with  me  and  brought  me  here.  These  fellows 
were  mighty  rough  on  me,  and  that  man  was  going  to 
split  my  head  open  when  you  came  along  in  the  nick 
of  time." 

"That's  a  neat  fairy  tale,"  sneered  Tucker.  "This 
horse  was  stolen  four  hours  ago.  More  than  likely  the 
boy  couldn't  manage  him  and  lost  his  way  and  the 
horse  tried  to  get  back  to  where  he  belonged." 

"That  doesn't  connect  with  what  I  know,"  answered 
Pawnee  Brown,  quietly.  "My  mare  was  tethered 
where  he  went  to  look  for  her.  I  might  as  well  accuse 
you  of  riding  down  there,  taking  Bonnie  Bird  and  leav 
ing  this  nag  in  her  place." 

"Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  we  are  horse  thieves?" 
cried  Ross  hotly. 


46  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

"I'm  giving  you  as  good  as  you  send,  that's  all. 
Dick,  have  you  any  idea  where  Bonnie  Bird  is  ?" 

"Not  the  slightest,  sir." 

The  great  scout  heaved  a  sigh.  The  little  racing 
mare  was  the  very  apple  of  his  eye. 

"I'll  not  give  up  the  hunt  until  I  have  found  her." 
He  turned  again  to  the  cavalrymen.  "If  the  finest  little 
black  mare,  with  a  white  blaze,  that  you  ever  saw 
strays  into  your  camp  remember  she  belongs  to  me," 
he  went  on.  "I  want  her  returned  at  once,  and  if  any 
body  attempts  to  keep  her  there  will  be  a  hotter  time 
than  this  Territory  has  seen  for  many  a  day.  Dick,  hop 
tip  behind  me,"  and  he  turned  to  his  horse. 

"That  boy  is  to  remain  here,"  blustered  Tucker, 
growing  red  in  the  face. 

"Hardly,  my  bantam.  Hop  up,  Dick,  and  we'll  strike 
back  for  camp  before  the  sun  comes  up  and  see  if  the 
others  who  are  on  the  search  have  seen  anything  of 
your  father.  I  saw  nothing  of  him  at  the  bottom  of  the 
Devil's  Chimney." 

"I'm  not  going  to  have  a  lazy,  good-for-nothing 

boomer  lay  it  over  me "  began  Tucker,  when  once 

more  the  sight  of  Pawnee  Brown's  pistol  silenced  him. 

No  more  was  said  as  the  scout,  Dick  and  Rasco  rode 
away  down  the  trail  by  which  they  had  come.  But, 


THE   CAVALRYMEN  47 

once  out  of  sight,  Tucker  raised  his  fist  and  shook  it 
savagely. 

"I'll  get  square  with  you  some  day,  Pawnee  Brown, 
mark  my  words !"  he  muttered  between  his  set  teeth. 

"We'll  all  get  square,"  said  Ross.  "I  hate  the  sight 
of  that  man." 

"I  understand  the  boomers  have  made  him  their 
leader,"  broke  in  Skimmy.  "If  they  have,  he'll  try  to 
break  through  to  Oklahoma  as  sure  as  guns  are  guns." 

"And  he'll  get  shot,  too,"  answered  Tucker  dryly. 
"The  lieutenant  is  having  all  of  the  boomers'  move 
ments  watched." 

"Pawnee  Brown  will  do  his  level  best  to  give  us  the 
slip,  see  if  he  don't,"  remarked  Skimmy.  "Four  thou 
sand  boomers  wouldn't  make  him  their  leader  for  noth- 
ing." 

Thus,  talking  among  themselves,  the  three  cavalry 
men  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  back  to  their 
various  picket  stations  along  the  boundary  line  of  the 
Indian  Territory. 

They  were  a  detachment  of  the  Seventh  United 
States  Cavalry,  and  the  lieutenant  referred  to  by 
Tucker  was  in  command. 

For  over  a  month  they  had  been  watching  the  boom 
ers  assembling  in  Kansas.  Other  portions  of  the 


48  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

United  States  troops  were  watching  the  would-be 
Oklahoma  settlers  in  Arkansas  and  Texas. 

There  was  every  prospect  of  a  lively  time  ahead,  and 
it  was  not  far  off. 

Reaching  his  station,  Tucker  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
briar-root  pipe,  filled  and  lit  it  and  began  to  puff  away 
meditatively. 

His  face  had  been  ugly  before,  but  now  as  he  began 
to  meditate  it  grew  blacker  than  ever. 

"Hang  me,  if  everything  ain't  going  wrong,"  he 
muttered.  "I  won't  stand  it.  I'll  make  a  kick,  and 
when  I  do — r-"  He  paused  as  a  shadow  among  the 
trees  caught  his  eye.  "Who  goes  there  ?"  he  called  out 
and  drew  his  pistol. 

"A  friend.    Tucker,  is  that  you  ?" 

"Vorlange !"  cried  the  cavalryman,  and  the  next  mo 
ment  the  newcomer  and  the  military  man  were  face  to 
face. 

"It's  about  time  you  showed  up,"  growled  Tucker, 
after  a  brief  pause,  during  which  the  newcomer  looked 
at  him  anxiously.  "Say,  Vorlange,  when  do  you  intend 
to  settle  up  with  me.  Give  it  to  me  straight,  now." 

"That's  why  I  left  the  trail  to  hunt  you  up,  Tucker 
— I  knew  you  were  anxious  about  that  five  hundred 
dollars." 

"Why  shouldn't  I  be?     It  took  me  a  long  time  to 


THE  CAVALRYMEN  49 

save  it — a  good  sight  longer  than  it  did  for  you  to 
gamble  it  away." 

"Tucker,  I  didn't  gamble  that  away — I'll  swear  it. 
I  used  it  in  business." 

"Business?  What  business  have  you  got  outside  of 
your  position  as  a  land  office  spy  ?" 

"A  good  business,  if  you  only  knew  it.  I've  been 
following  up  a  little  deal  that  started  in  the  East — in 
New  York.  Out  there  I  had  to  hire  a  fellow  I  could 
trust  to  work  for  me,  and  that  took  most  of  the  money. 
But  the  whole  thing  is  coming  my  way  now,  and  I 
want  to  talk  things  over  with  you.  How  would  you 
like  to  have  a  thousand  back  in  return  for  the  five 
hundred  you  loaned  me  ?" 

"What  sort  of  a  game  are  you  working  on  me  now  ?" 

"A  square  deal,  Tucker.  I've  been  keeping  my  eye 
on  you,  and  I  reckon  you  are  the  fellow  to  do  what  I 
want  done." 

"And  what  do  you  want  done  ?" 

Vorlange  stepped  closer. 

"The  boomers  are  going  to  try  to  cross  into  Okla 
homa  either  to-morrow  or  day  after.  There  will  be  a 
fight,  I  am  certain  of  it,  and  somebody  will  be  shot  and 
killed.  When  you  fire  I  want  you  to  pick  out  your 
man — two  men — or,  rather,  a  man  and  a  boy,  if  you  can 


50  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

do  it.  I  may  be  on  hand  to  take  part  myself,  but  there 
is  a  possibility  that  I  may  be  ordered  elsewhere." 

"And  you  are  willing  to  pay  me  five  hundred  extra 
for  picking  out  my  target,  Vorlange?" 

"You've  struck  it." 

"Who  is  the  man?" 

"Can  I  trust  you?" 

"Yes." 

"Pawnee  Brown." 

At  the  mention  of  the  great  scout's  name  Tucker 
started  back. 

"Why — why  do  you  want  him  knocked  over  ?" 

"He  is  my  enemy.  I  have  hated  him  from  my  boy 
hood!"  cried  Louis  Vorlange.  "And  there  are  other 
reasons — he  stands  in  the  way  of  my  pushing  the 
scheme  I  mentioned." 

"Pawnee  Brown  was  here  but  a  short  while  ago. 
He  insulted  and  abused  me,"  growled  Tucker.  "I'll 
put  a  bullet  through  him  quick  enough  if  I  get  the 
chance — that  is,  in  a  skirmish.  I  don't  want  to  run  any 
risk  of  being  strung  up  for — you  know." 

"The  shooting  will  be  O.  K.,  Tucker,  and  I'll  help 
if  I'm  not  ordered  away.  Do  it  and  the  five  hundred 
extra  are  yours,  I'll  give  you  my  word." 

"What  about  that  boy  you  mentioned  ?" 

"His  name  is  Dick  Arbuckle.     He  is " 


THE  CAVALRYMEN  51 

"Dick  Arbttckle  ?  I  know  him.  He  stole  my  horse. 
I  captured  him  and  Pawnee  Brown  came  to  his  rescue 
and  made  me,  Ross  and  Skimmy  give  him  up,"  and 
Tucker  gave  the  particulars  in  his  own  version  of  the 
affair. 

"Then  you  bear  the  lad  no  love?" 

"Love?"  The  cavalryman  grated  his  teeth.  "I  was 
wishing  I  could  get  a  shot  at  him." 

"Then  keep  that  wish  in  mind,  Tucker,  when  the 
time  for  action  arrives." 

"If  it's  worth  five  hundred  to  you  to  have  Pawnee 
Brown  knocked  over  it  ought  to  be  worth  more  to  have 
both  of  'em  laid  low,"  suggested  Tucker,  who  was 
naturally  a  grasping  fellow. 

"Five  hundred  in  cold  cash  is  a  good  deal  in  these 
times,"  was  the  slow  answer.  "But  I'll  tell  you  what 
I'll  do.  If,  after  a  fight,  you  can  bring  me  absolute 
proof  that  Pawnee  Brown  and  Dick  Arbuckle  are  dead 
I'll  give  you  an  even  twelve  hundred  dollars,  the  five 
hundred  I  borrowed  and  seven  hundred  extra.  There's 
my  hand  on  it.  What  do  you  say  ?" 

"Will  you  promise  to  give  me  the  money  as  soon  as 
you  have  the  proofs?" 

"I  will,"  and  Louis  Vorlange  raised  his  right  hand 
as  though  to  make  good  such  a  blasphemous  promise. 

"All  right,  then ;  I  take  you  up,"  answered  Tucker. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


"Don't  you  take  it  so  hard,  my  lad;  I  feel  certain 
that  your  father  will  turn  up  sooner  or  later." 

It  was  Pawnee  Brown  who  spoke.  He  addressed 
Dick,  who  sat  on  a  horse  belonging  to  Jack  Rasco.  The 
pair  had  been  scouring  the  plains  and  the  woods  for 
three  hours  in  search  of  Dick's  father. 

"Poor  father!  If  only  I  knew  what  had  become  of 
him !"  sighed  the  lad. 

In  his  anxiety  he  had  forgotten  all  about  his  adven 
tures  among  the  cavalrymen  who  had  sought  to  detain 
him  as  a  horse  thief. 

"It's  a  mystery,  thet's  what  it  is,"  burst  in  Jack 
Rasco. 

"It  looks  loike  the  hivens  hed  opened  an'  s walleyed 
him  up,"  was  Mike  Delaney's  comment.  "Be  jabbers, 
we  all  know  th'  hivens  was  wide  open  enough  last 
noight.  Me  turnout  is  afther  standin'  in  two  foot  o' 
wather,  an'  Rosy  raisin'  the  mischief  because  she  can't 
go  out.  'Moike,'  sez  she,  'Moike  Delaney,  git  a  boat 

(52) 


DICK'S   HUNT  53 

or  Oi'll  be  drowned/  an'  niver  a  boat  in  sight.  Th' 
ould  woman  will  have  to  shtay  in  the  wagon  till  the 
wather  runs  off  of  itself." 

"I  wonder  if  it  is  possible  my  poor  father  wandered 
into  town,"  mused  Dick.  "Perhaps  he  did  that  and 
was  locked  up  by  the  police.  He  is — well,  you  know 
he  gets  strange  spells,"  and  the  youth's  face  flushed. 

"Run  into  town,  lad,  and  make  a  search,"  answered 
the  boomer.  "If  I  and  Rasco  get  the  chance  we'll  fol 
low.  We  shan't  strike  camp  for  several  hours  yet." 

Dick  thought  this  good  advice  and  was  soon  on  his 
way.  The  rain  had  stopped  entirely  and  the  sun  was 
just  peeping  up  over  the  distant  plains  when  he  en 
tered  Arkansas  City  and  began  his  hunt. 

A  visit  to  the  police  station  speedily  revealed  the 
fact  that  nothing  was  known  there  concerning  his  miss 
ing  parent.  Here  Dick  left  a  description  of  his  father, 
and  was  promised  that  if  anything  was  discovered  of 
the  man  word  would  be  sent  to  him  immediately. 

Having  ridden  around  to  the  depot,  hotels  and  other 
public  places,  Dick  tied  up  his  steed  and  began  a  hunt 
through  the  various  streets,  looking  into  the  doors 
of  the  stores  and  saloons  as  he  passed. 

His  footsteps  soon  brought  him  down  to  the  vicinity 
of  the  river  front.  Here,  situated  along  several  blocks, 
were  a  number  of  eating  and  drinking  houses,  patron- 


54  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

ized  principally  by  rivermen,  gamblers  and  similar  per 
sons. 

Having  satisfied  himself,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  that 
his  father  was  not  in  any  of  the  saloons,  the  youth 
came  to  a  halt  in  front  of  a  restaurant.  He  had  not 
eaten  anything  since  the  evening  before,  and  his  night 
of  adventures  had  made  him  decidedly  hungry. 

"I'll  get  a  cup  of  coffee  and  some  rolls  to  brace  me 
up,"  he  thought,  and  entered  the  establishment.  His 
order  was  soon  given,  and  he  took  a  seat  at  a  side 
table,  close  to  a  thin  board  partition. 

His  order  served,  he  was  disposing  of  the  last  of  it, 
when  the  sound  of  voices  on  the  other  side  of  the 
partition  attracted  his  attention. 

"Leave  me  alone,  Juan  Donomez!"  came  in  the 
voice  of  a  girl.  "You  have  no  right  to  touch  me." 

"You  are  too  pretty  to  be  left  alone,"  came  in  the 
slick  tones  of  a  Mexican  vaquero.  "Come,  now,  seno- 
rita,  give  me  just  one  kiss." 

"I  will  not,  and  you  must  leave  me  alone,"  went  on 
the  girl,  and  her  trembling  voice  showed  plainly  that 
she  was  much  frightened.  "Where  is  the  man  who 
sent  for  me?" 

"He  is  not  here  yet." 

"I  do  not  believe  he  sent  for  me  at  all.  It  was  a 
trick  of  yours  to  get  me  here.  Let  me  go." 


DICK'S   HUNT  55 

"Not  yet,  senorita;  you  can  go  after  a  while.  But 
first  you  must  give  me  a  kiss.  Then  I  will  explain  why 
I  had  you  come." 

As  the  last  words  were  uttered  Dick  heard  a  scurry 
of  feet,  then  came  a  faint  scream,  cut  short  by  the 
Mexican.  The  boy  waited  to  hear  no  more. 

"The  contemptible  greaser !"  he  muttered  and  leaped 
up.  Throwing  down  the  amount  of  his  check  on  the 
cashier's  desk  he  hurried  from  the  restaurant.  As  he 
had  supposed  there  was  a  hallway  next  door,  where 
the  talking  he  had  overheard  was  taking  place. 

"Oh,  save  me !"  cried  the  girl,  and  one  glance  at  her 
told  Dick  that  she  was  not  over  sixteen  and  as  beautiful 
as  any  maiden  he  had  ever  seen.  She  was  attired  in 
true  western  style  and  wore  on  her  mass  of  shining 
curls  a  big,  soft  riding  hat. 

"Let  that  young  lady  alone,"  cried  the  youth  to  the 
Mexican,  who  glared  at  him  savagely.  "I  overheard 
your  talk,  and  if  she  wants  to  leave  she  shall  do  it." 

"Oh,  thank  you  for  coming  to  my  aid,"  burst  out 
the  girl  gratefully.  "This  bad  man " 

"Say  no  more,  Nellie  Winthrop,"  interrupted  the 
Mexican.  "Go  to  the  rear.  I  will  attend  to  this  cub 
who  dares  to  interfere  with  my  business." 

And  he  shoved  the  girl  behind  him.  His  roughness 
made  Dick's  blood  boil  over,  and,  rushing  forward,  he 


56  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

put  out  his  foot,  gave  a  push,  and  Juan  Donomez 
measured  his  length  upon  the  floor. 

During  the  encounter  Nellie  Winthrop  had  escaped 
to  the  front  end  of  the  hallway,  and  here  Dick  now 
joined  her. 

"We  might  as  well  go,"  said  the  youth. 

"Yes,  yes ;  let  us  get  out  as  quickly  as  we  can,"  an 
swered  the  girl  trembling.  "He  may  attempt  to  attack 
you." 

"I  ought  to  hand  him  over  to  the  authorities,  but  I 
won't,"  said  Dick.  "Come,"  and  he  opened  the  door 
and  followed  her  to  the  street. 

"I  shall  never  forget  you  for  your  kindness,"  the 
girl  burst  out  as  soon  as  they  had  left  the  vicinity  of 
the  spot  where  the  trouble  had  occurred.  "You  are 
very  brave,  Mr. " 

"I'm  only  Dick  Arbuckle,  Miss " 

"Nellie  Winthrop  is  my  name.  I  just  reached  Ar 
kansas  City  yesterday.  I  am  from  Peoria,  and  am 
looking  for  my  uncle,  who  is  somewhere  among  the 
Oklahoma  boomers." 

"Indeed !  I'm  one  of  the  boomers  myself — at  least, 
I've  been  with  them  a  good  part  of  the  time.  Perhaps 
I  know  your  uncle.  What  is  his  name?" 

"John  Rasco,  but  I  believe  the  men  all  call  him  Jack 
Rasco." 


DICK'S    HUNT  57 

"Why,  is  it  possible!  I  know  Jack  Rasco  well — in 
fact,  my  father  and  I  have  been  stopping  with  him  ever 
since  we  came  on  from  New  York.  As  soon  as  the 
rush  into  Oklahoma  was  over  my  father  was  going  to 
get  your  uncle  to  locate  a  certain  mine  claim  in  the 
West  for  him — a  claim  that  belongs  to  us,  but  which 
can't  be  located  very  easily,  it  seems." 

"And  where  is  my  uncle  now?"  demanded  Nellie 
Winthrop. 

"At  the  boomers'  camp,  I  suppose.  You  see,"  went 
on  Dick,  his  face  falling,  "there  is  something  wrong 
afoot."  And  in  a  few  words  he  told  of  his  father's 
disappearance  and  of  the  search  being  made  to  find 
him. 

"I  sincerely  trust  he  is  safe,"  said  Nellie  when  he 
had  concluded.  "I  presume  you  want  to  resume  your 
search.  Do  not  let  me  detain  you.  If  you  are  among 
the  boomers  we  will  certainly  meet  again,"  and  she 
held  out  her  hand. 

"Do  you  feel  safe  enough  to  find  the  camp  alone?" 
he  asked.  "Perhaps  I  had  better  take  you  there.  It  is 
about  a  mile  in  that  direction,"  and  he  indicated  the 
locality  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

"I  feel  safe  enough  in  the  open  air,"  she  smiled.  "It 
was  only  when  that  Mexican  had  me  cornered  in  a 
dark  hallway  that  I  felt  alarmed.  I  was  born  and 


58  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

brought  up  on  the  plains,  and  I've  been  to  Peoria  only 
to  get  educated,  as  they  say.  I've  a  horse  at  the  livery 
stable,  and  I  can  ride  the  distance." 

"May  I  ask  how  you  fell  in  with  that  greaser  ?" 
"I  think  he  overheard  me  asking  for  my  uncle  at  the 
hotel,  and  after  that  he  sent  a  note  saying  my  uncle  was 
at  the  place  where  you  found  me.  I  saw  him  first  on 
the  train,  where  he  tried  his  best  to  get  some  informa 
tion  from  me  about  some  horses.  But  I  told  him  little," 
concluded  the  girl. 

Five  minutes  later  they  parted  at  the  livery  stable, 
where  Nellie  had  left  her  horse,  and  Dick  went  on  his 
way  to  continue  his  search  for  his  lost  parent.  The 
girl  had  thanked  him  again  for  what  he  had  done  and 
had  squeezed  his  hand  so  warmly  that  his  heart 
thumped  pretty  hard,  while  his  face  was  flushed  more 
than  ever  before. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OUT  ON  THE  RIVER. 

For  over  half  an  hour  longer  Dick  tramped  the 
streets  of  the  city  looking  for  some  trace  of  his  father. 

Presently  he  found  himself  down  by  the  docks  along 
the  muddy  river.  The  stream  was  much  swollen,  and 
the  few  boats  tied  up  were  bumping  freely  against  the 
shore  as  the  current  swung  them  in. 

"I  wonder  if  father  could  have  come  down  here?" 
he  mused.  "He  had  a  great  fondness  for  the  water 
when  he  got  those  strange  spells." 

Slowly  and  with  eyes  wide  open  he  moved  down  the 
river  shore,  ready  to  seize  upon  any  evidence  which 
might  present  itself. 

Suddenly  he  uttered  a  cry  and  leaped  down  into  a 
rowboat  lying  before  him. 

"Father's  hat !    I'd  know  it  among  a  thousand !" 

Dick  was  right.  There  on  the  stern  seat  of  the  craft 
rested  the  head-covering  Mortimer  Arbuckle  had  worn 
ever  since  he  had  left  New  York. 

The  tears  stood  in  the  youth's  eyes  as  he  picked  up 

(59) 


60  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

the  hat  and  inspected  it.  One  side  of  the  brim  was 
covered  with  dirt,  and  it  was  still  soaked  from  the  rain. 

"Poor  father !    Is  it  possible  he  fell  overboard  ?" 

Dick  said  "fell  overboard,"  but  he  thought  something 
else.  He  knew  as  well  as  anybody  that  his  father  did 
strange  things  while  under  the  influence  of  the  melan 
choly  spells  which  at  times  haunted  him. 

He  looked  up  and  down  the  stream.  Nothing  was 
in  sight  but  the  boats  and  here  and  there  a  mass  of 
driftwood. 

He  sat  down  on  the  seat  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands. 

"Say,  boy,  wot  yer  doin'  in  my  boat?" 

It  was  a  burly  fellow  standing  upon  the  shore  who 
asked  the  question. 

"Excuse  me;  I  am  looking  for  my  father,  who  is 
missing.  I  just  found  his  hat  on  the  seat  here.  Did 
you  see  anything  of  him  ?" 

"Missing,  eh — an'  thet's  his  headgear?  Say,  boy, 
thet's  no  laughin'  matter,"  and  the  burly  fellow  looked 
at  the  youth  kindly. 

"I  know  it.  I  am  afraid  he  tumbled  overboard.  He 
had  times  when  he  wasn't  feeling  quite  right  in  his 
head." 

The  burly  individual  whistled  softly  to  himself. 
"Then  I  reckon  Sary  was  right,  arter  all,"  he  half 
mused. 


OUT   ON   THE   RIVER  6l 

"Sary?  Who  do  you  mean?" 

"Sary's  my  wife.  She  woke  me  up  about  five  o'clock 
this  mornin'.  We  live  up  in  the  shanty  yonder.  Sary 
said  she  heard  somebody  moanin'  an'  yellin'  down  here. 
I  said  she  wuz  dreamin',  but  I  allow  now  ez  I  might 
hev  been  mistook,  eh?" 

"You  didn't  come  out  to  investigate?" 

"No ;  it  war  too  stormy.  I  listened,  but  there  wuz 
no  more  of  the  noise  arter  Sary  waked  me  up.  If  yer 
father  fell  overboard  I'm  mighty  sorry  fer  yer.  If  he 
did  go  over  his  body  must  be  a  long  way  down  stream 
by  this  time." 

"Poor  father!"  It  was  all  Dick  could  say.  He  and 
his  parent  had  been  alone  in  the  wide  world,  and  now 
to  think  that  his  only  relative  was  gone  was  almost 
beyond  endurance. 

"Take  the  boat  and  go  down  if  yer  want  to,"  went 
on  the  burly  individual.  "Ye  can  leave  the  craft  at 
Woolley's  mill.  I'd  go  along,  only  the  old  woman's 
took  sick  an'  I've  got  to  hustle  fer  a  doctor." 

"I  will  take  a  look  around  in  the  boat,"  answered 
Dick,  and,  having  procured  the  oars,  he  set  off.  The 
current  was  so  strong  it  was  not  necessary  to  use  the 
blades,  and  he  had  all  he  could  do  to  keep  the  craft 
from  spinning  around  and  dashing  itself  against  the 
shore  or  the  other  boats  which  lay  along  both  banks, 


62  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

On  and  on  the  rowboat  sped,  until  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  had  been  covered.  Nothing  unusual  had  yet 
been  noted,  yet  the  boy  kept  his  eyes  strained  for  some 
sign  of  his  father,  praying  inwardly  that  all  might  still 
be  well  with  the  only  one  who  was  left  to  him. 

"If  father  is  dead,  what  shall  I  do?"  he  thought  with 
a  shiver.  "He  had  all  of  our  money  with  him,  all  of 
those  precious  papers,  everything.  I  would  be  left  a 
pauper,  and,  worse  than  that,  without  a  single  relative 
in  the  wide  world.  Oh,  pray  Heaven  he  is  spared 
tome!" 

"Look  out  there,  youngster !" 

It  was  a  wild  cry,  coming  from  a  bend  in  the  stream. 
Dick  had  been  gazing  across  the  river.  Now  he  turned 
to  behold  his  craft  rushing  swiftly  toward  the  trunk  of 
a  half -submerged  tree  which  the  storm  had  torn  away 
from  the  shore. 

The  river  was  almost  a  torrent  at  this  place. 

He  grasped  the  oars,  intending  to  turn  the  boat  from 
its  mad  course.  But  the  action  came  too  late.  Crash ! 
The  craft  struck  a  sharp  branch  of  the  tree  with  fearfu4 
force,  staving  in  the  bow  completely,  and  the  next  in 
stant  the  boy  was  hurled  headlong  into  the  boiling  and 
foaming  current. 


,1 


"The   next   instant  the   boy    was    hurled   headlong   into 
the  boiling  and  foaming  current" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

EXPOSING  A  SWINDLER. 

It  was  less  than  an  hour  after  separating  from  Dick 
Arbuckle  that  Pawnee  Brown  found  his  way  to  Ar 
kansas  City. 

He  was  accompanied  by  Jack  Rasco  and  Cal  Clem- 
mer,  and  the  great  scout's  object  was  not  alone  to  aid 
Dick  in  the  search  for  Mortimer  Arbuckle,  but  also 
to  help  Cal  Clemmer  get  back  some  money  out  of 
which  the  cowboy  boomer  claimed  he  had  been 
swindled. 

Clemmer  had  played  cards  with  a  certain  sharp 
known  as  Pete  Stillwater,  and  lost  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars.  At  first  he  had  imagined  he  had  lost  it 
fairly  enough,  but  after  thoughts,  coupled  with  what 
he  heard  on  the  sly  the  next  day,  made  him  certain 
that  Stillwater  had  cheated  him. 

He  had  brought  his  case  to  Pawnee  Brown,  and  the 
leader  of  the  boomers  at  once  concluded  that  the  gam 
bler  had  not  acted  fairly.  He  had  met  Stillwater  at 
Wichita,  where  the  gambler's  reputation  was  far  from 
savory. 

(63) 


64  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

"You  were  a  fool  to  bet  at  cards,  Cal,"  he  said 
flatly.  "But  that  is  no  reason  why  Stillwater  should 
cheat  you.  I'll  do  what  I  can,  but  you  must  promise 
to  leave  playing  for  high  stakes  alone  in  the  future." 

"Don't  yer  fear,  Pawnee,"  was  Clemmer's  ready 
reply.  "A  scorched  Injun  keeps  hez  distance  from  the 
blaze,  don't  he?  Wall,  I'm  the  scorched  Injun  in  this 
air  case.  Git  back  my  money  fer  me  an'  I  won't  play 
nothin'  higher  then  penny-ante  ez  long  ez  I  live." 

The  gambling  resort  at  which  Stillwater  was  hold 
ing  forth  was  soon  reached,  and  the  three  entered,  to 
find  the  place  comfortably  crowded  by  boomers,  men- 
about-town,  cowboys  and  gamblers,  all  anxious  to  add 
to  their  wealth  without  working.  As  Pawnee  Brown 
surveyed  the  assemblage  his  lip  curled  with  a  sarcasm 
which  was  by  no  means  displaced. 

"Poor  fools !"  he  thought ;  "they  expect  to  win,  and 
nine-tenths  of  them  are  bound  in  the  end  to  be  fleeced 
out  of  all  they  possess.  Why  men  who  have  brains 
will  throw  away  good  money  in  this  fashion  is  more 
than  I  can  understand." 

"Thar's  Stillwater,"  whispered  Cal  Clemmer. 
"Hang  hez  hide,  I'd  like  ter  wring  hez  neck  fer  him." 

"Better  wring  his  money  bag  first,"  smiled  Pawnee 
Brown. 


EXPOSING   A    SWINDLER  65 

Without  hesitation  he  called  Stillwater  outside  and 
explained  the  situation. 

"You  can  say  what  you  please,  Stillwater,"  he  said. 
"I  am  certain  you  have  been  cheating,  for  I  know  your 
past  record.  You  must  restore  that  money  and  do  it 
right  away." 

A  stormy  war  of  .words  followed,  but  Pawnee 
Brown  was  firm  and  at  last  Stillwater  gave  up  about 
a  hundred  dollars — all  he  had  with  him. 

He  went  off  vowing  vengeance  and  when  at  a  safe 
distance  turned  and  drew  a  pistol  from  his  pocket. 

"He's  going  to  shoot  ye!"  cried  one  of  the  boomers, 
but  Stillwater  was  afraid  to  fire.  As  Pawnee  Brown 
started  after  him  on  a  run  the  gambler  fled  toward  the 
river. 

"Let  us  go  after  him !"  cried  one  of  the  others,  and 
away  they  went.  Soon  they  came  in  sight  of  the  river 
and  saw  Stillwater  in  a  small  craft,  sculling  his  way  to 
the  opposite  shore.  Presently  a  bend  in  the  stream  hid 
him  from  view. 

"Hullo!"  sang  out  Pawnee  Brown.  "Here  comes 
another  rowboat,  and — yes,  there  is  Dick  Arbuckle  in 
it.  What  can  he  be  doing  on  the  river  ?" 

"The  boat  is  makin'  fer  thet  half-sunk  tree !"  inter 
rupted  Cal  Clemmer.  "He'll  strike  ef  he  don't  look 
out !  Heavens !" 


66  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

"Look  out  there,  youngster !"  yelled  Pawnee  Brown, 
and  those  were  the  words  which  attracted  Dick's  atten 
tion,  as  mentioned  in  the  former  chapter. 

It  was  useless  to  say  more.  Standing  upon  the  bank, 
Pawnee  Brown  and  the  cowboy  boomer  saw  the  craft 
strike  and  go  to  pieces  and  saw  Dick  thrown  out  into 
the  madly  rushing  current. 

As  the  boy  sped  along  his  head  came  into  painful 
contact  with  the  furthest  of  the  tree  branches,  and  he 
was  partially  stunned.  His  eyes  closed  and  he  struck 
out  wildly  and  ineffectually. 

"He'll  be  drowned!"  gasped  Clemmer.  "It  would 
take  a  strong  swimmer  to  gain  the  bank  with  the  water 
runnin'  ez  it  is  today." 

"I  don't  believe  he  could  catch  a  rope,"  answered 
Pawnee  Brown,  starting  off  down  the  river  bank.  "Cal, 
hunt  one  up  somewhere ;  I'm  going  in  after  him !" 

"But  the  risk " 

"Never  mind  the  risk.  Get  the  rope  if  you  can,"  and 
away  went  the  scout  again. 

"Help!"  came  faintly  from  Dick.  He  was  dazed 
and  weak,  and  could  hardly  see  in  what  direction  the 
shore  really  was. 

"Keep  up,  boy,  and  we'll  save  you!"  shouted  Paw 
nee  Brown  encouragingly. 

Reaching  a  spot  twenty  or  thirty  feet  below  where 


EXPOSING   A   SWINDLER  67 

Dick  was  drifting,  he  threw  off  his  hat  and  coat  and 
leaped  into  the  stream. 

Down  he  went  over  his  head,  to  come  up  a  second 
later  and  strike  out  powerfully  for  the  youth.  The 
cold  water  chilled  him,  but  to  this  he  paid  no  attention. 
He  had  taken  a  fancy  to  Dick,  and  was  resolved  to 
save  the  boy  at  any  cost. 

Nearer  and  nearer  he  came.  It  was  a  tough  struggle, 
for  in  the  bend  of  the  swollen  stream  the  water  boiled 
and  foamed  upon  all  sides.  He  was  yet  ten  feet  away 
from  Dick,  when  he  saw  the  youth  sink  beneath  the 
surface. 

"Gone!"  he  thought,  and  made  a  leap  and  a  dive. 
His  outstretched  hand  came  in  contact  with  Dick's  left 
arm,  and  he  dragged  his  burden  upward. 

"Keep  cool,  Dick,"  he  said  when  he  could  speak. 
"Can't  you  swim?" 

"Yes,  but  not  extra  well,"  panted  the  half-drowned 
lad.  "I  struck  my  head  upon  something." 

"Then  lay  hold  of  my  shoulder  and  I'll  keep  you  up. 
Steady,  now,  or  the  current  will  send  us  around  like 
two  tops." 

No  more  was  said,  as  both  felt  they  must  save  their 
breath.  With  Dick  clinging  loosely,  so  as  not  to  hinder 
his  swimming,  Pawnee  Brown  struck  out  for  the  shore. 

It  was  perilous  work,  for  other  trees  and  obstruc- 


68  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

tions  were  upon  every  hand,  and  more  than  once  both 
were  torn  and  scratched  as  they  sped  by  in  what  was 
little  short  of  a  whirlpool. 

"Catch  the  rope!"  suddenly  came  from  Clemmer, 
and  a  noose  whizzed  in  the  air  and  fell  close  beside  the 
pair.  Both  Pawnee  Brown  and  Dick  did  as  requested, 
and  the  cowboy  boomer  began  to  haul  in  with  all  the 
strength  at  his  command.  It  was  hard  work,  but 
Clemmer  was  equal  to  it,  and  presently  those  in  the 
water  came  close  enough  to  gain  a  footing,  and  then 
the  peril  was  over. 

Dick's  story  was  soon  told,  to  which  the  great  scout 
added  that  of  his  own. 

"I  shall  not  attempt  to  follow  up  Stillwater,"  Pawnee 
Brown  concluded.  "It  is  high  time  I  got  back  to  camp, 
for  let  me  tell  you,  privately,  we  move  westward  to 
day.  You  may  continue  the  hunt  for  your  father  or 
come  with  me,  just  as  you  choose.  It  is  possible  you 
may  find  some  trace  of  him  around  here,  but  it  is 
doubtful  to  me,  after  such  a  storm.  It's  hard  lines, 
boy,  but  cheer  up;  things  may  not  be  as  bad  as  you 
imagine,"  and  he  laid  a  dripping  but  affectionate  arm 
upon  Dick's  shoulder. 

"I  will  stay  here  for  a  while,  at  least,"  answered 
Dick.  "But— but  I  am  without  a  cent,  and " 


EXPOSING  A   SWINDLER  69 

"How  much  do  you  want,  Dick?"  and  Pawnee 
Brown's  pocketbook  came  out  without  delay. 

"If  you  will  lend  me  ten  dollars " 

"Here  are  twenty.  When  you  want  more  let  me 
know.  Now,  goodbye,  and  good  luck  to  you." 

And  the  next  minute  Pawnee  Brown  and  Clemmer 
were  gone.  Dick  watched  them  out  of  sight  and  a 
warm  feeling  went  over  his  heart. 

"The  major  is  as  generous  as  he  is  brave,"  he  mur 
mured.  "He  is  one  scout  of  a  thousand.  No  won 
der  all  the  boomers  asked  him  to  lead  them  in  this 
expedition." 

Ten  minutes  later  Dick  was  drying  himself  at  the 
fire  in  a  house  near  by.  Hearing  his  tale  of  misfortune, 
the  man  who  took  him  in  insisted  upon  treating  him 
to  some  hot  coffee,  which  did  a  good  bit  toward  making 
him  feel  once  more  like  himself. 

"It  may  be  a  wild-goose  chase,  but  I  can't  give  it 
up,"  he  muttered  as  he  continued  his  search  by  walking 
along  the  river  bank.  "Poor  father,  where  can  he  be?" 
The  outskirts  of  the  city  had  been  left  behind  and 
he  was  making  his  way  through  a  tangle  of  brush  and 
over  shelving  rocks.  A  bend  was  passed  and  he  gave 
a  wild  cry. 

And  small  wonder.    There  on  the  river  bank  lay  the 
motionless  form  of  his  parent,  dripping  yet  with  the 


70  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

water  of  the  river.  The  eyes  were  closed  as  if  in  death. 
With  a  moan  Dick  threw  himself  forward  and  caught 
one  of  the  cold  hands  within  his  own.  Then  he  placed 
his  ear  to  his  parent's  heart. 

"Too  late!  He  is  gone!"  he  wailed.  "Poor,  poor 
father,  dead  after  all!  Oh,  if  only  I  had  died  with 
you !"  and  he  sank  back  utterly  overcome. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MIKE  AND  THE   MULES. 

"We  move  in  an  hour!" 

This  was  the  word  which  was  whispered  about  the 
boomers'  camp  shortly  after  Pawnee  Brown's  arrival. 

The  great  scout  had  found  it  out  of  the  question  to 
attempt  to  enter  the  Indian  Territory  in  a  direct  route 
from  Arkansas  City.  The  government  troops  were 
watching  the  trail,  and  the  soldiers  were  backed  up  by 
the  cattle  kings'  helpers,  who  would  do  all  in  their 
power  to  harass  the  pioneers  and  make  them  turn  back. 

Many  a  man  would  have  gone  ahead  with  a  rush, 
but  Pawnee  Brown  knew  better  than  to  do  this.  If  he 
was  brave,  he  was  also  cautious. 

"A  rush  now  would  mean  people  killed,  horses  shot 
down  or  poisoned,  wagons  ditched,  harnesses  cut  up 
and  a  thousand  and  one  other  disasters,"  he  said.  "We 
must  beat  the  cattle  kings  at  their  own  game.  We  will 
move  westward  to  Honnewell  either  this  afternoon  or 
to-night.  Get  ready  to  go  on  whenever  the  signal  is 
passed." 


72  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

"But  vot  goot  vill  it  do  to  vait  by  Honnvell?"  ques 
tioned  Carl  Humpendinck,  a  German  boomer. 

"We'll  not  wait  very  long  there,"  answered  Pawnee 
Brown. 

So  the  word  went  around  that  the  boomers  would 
move  in  an  hour.  This  was  not  actually  true,  but  it 
was  necessary  to  spread  some  report  of  this  kind  in 
order  to  make  the  slow  ones  hustle.  If  left  to  them 
selves  these  few  would  not  have  gotten  ready  in  two 
days. 

"It's  a  move  we  are  afther  makin'  at  last,  is  it?" 
burst  out  Rosy  Delaney  when  Mike  brought  the  news. 
"Sure,  an'  Oi'm  ready,  Moike  Delaney,  but  how  are  ye 
to  git  this  wagon  out  av  thet  bog  hole,  Oi  dunno." 

"Oi'll  borry  a  horse,"  answered  Mike.  "It's  Jack 
Rasco  will  lind  me  the  same." 

Mike  ran  around  to  where  Jack  Rasco  was  in  earnest 
conversation  with  a  stranger  who  had  just  come  in 
from  town.  The  stranger  had  brought  a  letter  from 
Nellie  Winthrop,  posted  two  days  before,  and  saying 
when  she  would  arrive.  The  letter  caused  Rasco  not 
a  little  worry,  as  so  far  the  girl  had  failed  to  appear. 

"I  haven't  any  horse  to  spare  just  now,  Mike,"  he 
said ;  "but  hold  on,  you  can  have  Billy,  the  mule,  if  you 
wish." 

There  was  a  little  twinkle  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke,  but 


MIKE  AND  THE  MULES  73 

Mike  didn't  see  the  twinkle  and  readily  accepted  the 
mule  and  led  him  over  to  where  his  own  turn-out 
stood. 

"Moike  Delaney,  phot  kind  av  a  horse  do  yez  call 
that?"  demanded  Rosy. 

"It's  a  mule,  ye  ignoramus,"  he  answered.  "An' 
a  good  puller,  I'll  bet  me  whiskers.  Just  wait  till  Oi 
hitch  him  beside  the  tame." 

Billy  was  soon  hitched  up  as  Mike  desired,  and  the 
Irishman  proceeded  to  urge  him  forward  with  his  short 
whip. 

It  was  then  the  fun  began.  Billy  did  not  appreciate 
being  called  upon  to  do  extra  work.  Instead  of  pull 
ing,  he  simply  turned  around,  tangling  up  and  break 
ing  the  harness,  and  began  to  kick  up  the  black  prairie 
dirt  with  both  hind  hoofs. 

"Oh,  the  villain!"  spluttered  Rosy  Delaney,  who 
received  the  first  installment  of  dirt  full  in  her  eyes  and 
mouth.  "Moike  Delaney,  ye  made  him  do  that  a- 
purpose !"  and  she  shook  her  fist  at  her  husband.  "Ye 
bould,  bad  mon!" 

"Oi  did  not,"  he  ejaculated.  "Git  back  there,  ye 
baste !"  he  added,  and  tried  to  hit  Billy  with  his  whip. 
The  knowing  mule  dodged  and,  turning  swiftly, 
planted  a  hoof  in  Mike's  stomach  so  slickly  that  the 


74  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

Irishman  went  heels  over  head  into  a  nearby  puddle. 

A  shout  arose  from  those  standing  near. 

"Score  one  round  for  the  mule!" 

"Mike,  thet  summersault  war  good  enough  fer  a 
show.  Better  jine  the  circus!" 

"Oi'll  show  the  mule !"  yelled  Mike,  and  rushed  in 
again.  But  once  more  Billy  turned  and  got  out  of  the 
way,  and  this  time  he  caught  the  seat  of  Mike's  trous 
ers  between  his  teeth  and  lifted  the  frightened  man 
six  feet  from  the  ground. 

"Don't!  Let  me  down!  Somebody  save  me!"  yelled 
the  terrorized  son  of  Erin.  "Rosy !  Clemmer !  Rasco ! 
Hit  him !  Shoot  him !  Make  him  let  go  av  me !  Oi'll 
be  kilt  entoirely !" 

Outsiders  were  too  much  amused  to  help  Mike,  but 
Rosy  came  to  the  rescue  with  a  woman's  best  weapon — 
a  rolling-pin,  one  she  occasionally  used  in  making  pies 
for  the  family  when  in  camp.  Whizz !  came  the  roll 
ing-pin  through  the  air,  hitting  Billy  on  the  ear.  The 
mule  gave  a  short  snort,  broke  what  remained  of  the 
harness  and  scampered  off  to  make  a  complete  circuit 
of  the  camp  and  then  fall  into  his  regular  place  near 
Jack  Rasco's  turn-out. 

"Want  him  some  more?"  asked  Jack,  who  had  seen 
the  fun,  and  was  compelled  to  laugh,  in  spite  of  his 
worry. 


MIKE  AND  THE  MULES  75 

"Want  him  some  more,  is  it?"  growled  Mike.  "Not 
fer  a  thousand  dollars,  Rasco !  Yez  kin  kape  the  mule, 
an'  be  hanged  to  yez !"  and  he  stalked  off  to  borrow  a 
horse  that  was  warranted  to  be  gentle  under  the  most 
trying  of  circumstances. 

In  the  meantime  Pawnee  Brown  was  completing  his 
arrangements  for  moving  to  Honnewell  and  then  to 
enter  the  promised  land  by  way  of  Bitter  Creek  and 
the  Secaspie  River.  Scouts  sent  out  to  watch  had  re 
ported  that  the  cavalry  were  watching  every  movement 
closely,  but  Pawnee  Brown  did  not  dream  that  Louis 
Vorlange  had  overheard  what  was  said  at  a  meeting 
in  the  woods,  or  that  this  scoundrel  had  hired  Tucker, 
the  cavalryman,  to  shoot  down  both  himself  and  Dick 
Arbuckle. 

Presently  Jack  Rasco  found  his  way  to  the  scout's 
side. 

" Pawnee,  if  you  can  spare  a  little  time  I  would  like 
your  advice,"  he  said,  and  mentioned  the  letter  from 
Nellie  Winthrop.  "It's  mighty  strange  the  gal  don't 
turn  up,  ain't  it?" 

"Perhaps  so ;  but  she  may  have  been  detained,"  an 
swered  the  scout. 

At  this  Rasco  shook  his  head.  The  bearer  of  the 
letter  had  seen  Nellie's  name  on  the  hotel  register. 
Something  was  wrong,  he  felt  sure  of  it.  The  letter 


76  THE  BOY   LAND   ROOMER 

had  contained  Nellie's  photograph,  and  he  showed  it  to 
Pawnee  Brown  as  he  asked  for  permission  to  leave  his 
work  of  assisting  the  boomers  to  be  prepared  for  a 
moving  in  order  to  pay  Arkansas  City  another  visit. 

"Go  on,  Jack.  You're  my  right-hand  man,  but  I'll 
manage  somehow  without  you,"  answered  the  great 
scout.  "A  pretty  niece  for  any  man  to  have,"  and  he 
handed  back  the  photograph,  after  a  somewhat  close 
inspection.  Two  minutes  later  found  Jack  Rasco  on 
his  way,  to  encounter  adventures  of  which  he  had 
never  imagined. 

"A  note  for  you,  Pawnee."  It  was  one  of  the  scouts 
sent  out  that  morning  who  spoke  as  he  rode  up.  Paw 
nee  Brown  read  the  communication  with  interest. 

"Come  up  to  the  ravine  back  of  Honnewell  as  soon 
as  possible,"  ran  the  note.  "I  think  the  cavalry  are 
up  to  some  new  dodge,  or  else  the  cattle  men  are  go 
ing  to  play  us  foul.  Urgent.  DAN  GILBERT." 

"I  must  away,  boys !"  cried  Pawnee  Brown,  tearing 
up  the  note.  "Be  ready  to  move,  but  don't  stir  until 
you  hear  from  me,"  and,  giving  a  few  more  instruc 
tions,  he  borrowed  a  fresh  horse  from  Carl  Humpen- 
dinck  and  set  off  on  a  gallop  of  twelve  miles  across 
the  country. 


MIKE  AND  THE  MULES  77 

As  he  covered  mile  after  mile,  through  woods  and 
over  stretches  of  broad  prairie,  he  could  not  help  but 
think  of  his  racing  mare,  Bonnie  Bird.  How  she 
would  have  enjoyed  this  outing,  and  how  she  would 
have  covered  this  ground  with  her  twinkling  feet. 

"I  must  find  her  and  find  the  rascal  who  stole  her !" 
he  muttered.  "I  wouldn't  take  twenty  thousand  dollars 
for  Bonnie,"  and  he  meant  what  he  said.  The  little 
mare  and  the  great  scout  were  almost  inseparable. 

The  afternoon  sun  was  sinking  low  when  Pawnee 
Brown  struck  the  outskirts  of  Honnewell  (spelled  by 
some  writers,  Honeywell).  Not  caring  to  be  seen  in 
that  town  by  the  government  agents,  who  might  inform 
the  cavalry  that  the  boomers  were  moving  in  that  di 
rection,  the  scout  took  to  a  side  trail,  leading  directly 
for  the  ravine  mentioned  in  the  letter. 

Soon  he  was  picking  his  way  down  a  path  covered 
with  brush  and  loose  stones.  Upon  either  side  were 
woods,  and  so  thick  no  sunlight  penetrated,  making 
the  spot  gloomy  and  forbidding. 

"Now,  I  suppose  I'll  have  no  picnic  in  finding  Dan," 
he  mused.  "I'll  give  the  signal." 

The  shrill  cry  of  a  night  bird  rang  out  upon  the  air, 
and  Pawnee  Brown  listened  attentively  for  a  reply. 
None  came,  and  he  repeated  the  cry,  with  the  same 
result. 


78  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

"I'll  have  to  push  on  a  bit  further,"  he  thought,  and 
was  just  about  to  urge  forward  his  horse  when  a 
crashing  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine  caught  his 
ear.  Instinctively  he  withdrew  to  the  shelter  of  some 
brush  to  learn  who  the  new-comer  might  be. 

He  was  not  kept  long  in  waiting.  The  sounds  came 
closer  and  closer,  and  presently  a  tall  Indian  came  into 
view,  astride  a  horse,  and  carrying  an  odd-looking 
burden  in  his  arms. 

"Yellow  Elk!"  almost  burst  from  Pawnee  Brown's 
lips.  The  Indian  he  mentioned  was  a  well-known  chief, 
a  warrior  noted  for  his  many  crimes,  and  a  redskin 
whom  the  government  agent  had  tried  in  vain  to  sub 
due. 

The  scout  crouched  back  still  further  and  drew  his 
pistol,  for  he  felt  that  Yellow  Elk  was  on  no  lawful 
errand,  and  a  meeting  would  most  likely  mean  a  fight. 
Then  he  made  a  discovery  of  still  greater  inportance — 
to  him. 

"Bonnie  Bird,  as  sure  as  shooting!  So  Yellow  Elk 
is  the  horse  thief.  The  rascal!  I've  a  good  mind  to 
shoot  him  down  where  he  sits !"  He  handled  his  pistol 
nervously.  "What  is  that  he  is  carrying,  wrapped  up 
in  his  blanket?  Ha!" 

A  murmur  of  amazement  could  not  now  be  sup 
pressed.  In  shifting  his  burden  from  one  shoulder  to 


MIKE  AND  THE  MULES  79 

the  other  the  Indian  had  allowed  the  blanket  to  fall 
partly  back,  and  there  was  now  revealed  to  Pawnee 
Brown  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  beautiful,  but  un 
conscious  white  girl.  Nor  was  that  all.  The  girl  was 
—Nellie  Winthrop ! 


CHAPTER  X. 

MR.   ARBUCKLE'S  STORY. 

"Father!  father!  speak  to  me!  Tell  me  that  you 
are  not  dead !" 

Over  and  over  again  did  poor  Dick  repeat  these 
words  as  he  sat  by  the  side  of  that  wet  and  mo 
tionless  form  on  the  muddy  river  bank.  The  boy's 
heart  seemed  to  be  breaking. 

But  suddenly  there  came  a  change.  He  saw  one 
of  his  father's  arms  quiver.  Then  came  a  faint 
twitching  of  an  eyelid. 

"He  is  alive !"  gasped  Dick.  ,The  joy  of  the  dis 
covery  nearly  paralyzed  him.  "Father!  father!" 

No  answer  came  back,  indeed,  it  was  not  to  be 
expected.  Kneeling  over  his  parent,  Dick  set  to 
work  to  resuscitate  the  almost  drowned  man. 

Fortunately  the  youth  had,  during  his  school  days 
in  New  York,  heard  a  lecture  on  what  was  best  to 
do  in  just  such  a  case,  so  he  did  not  labor  in  ignor 
ance.  His  treatment  was  as  skillful  as  memory  and 
his  love  for  his  parent  could  make  it,  and  in  less 
(80) 


MR.  ARBUCKLE'S  STORY  81 

than  half  an  hour  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
his  father  give  a  gasp  and  open  his  eyes. 

"Father,  don't  you  know  me?" 

"Dick !"  came  the  almost  inaudible  reply.  "Where 
— where  am  I?" 

"You  are  safe,  father.  You  fell  into  the  river  and 
came  near  to  drowning." 

"Is  that  so?  I  did  not  know  there  was  a  river 
near  here." 

Mr.  Arbuckle  was  silent  for  several  minutes,  dur 
ing  which  Dick  continued  his  work  and  made  him 
as  comfortable  as  possible  by  wrapping  his  parent 
in  his  own  dry  coat. 

"Where  is  that  rascal  ?" 

''What  rascal,  father?" 

"The  man  with  the  red  mask— the  fellow  who 
struck  me  down?" 

"I  do  not  know.  So  you  were  struck  down? 
Where?" 

"Just  outside  of  the  boomers*  camp.  Somebody 
brought  me  word  that  Pawnee  Brown  wanted  to  see 
me  privately.  I  went,  and  a  rascal  rushed  on  me 
and  demanded  my  private  papers.  I  resisted  and  he 
struck  me  down.  I  know  no  more  than  that,"  and 
Mr.  Arbuckle  gave  another  gasp.  His  eyes  were 
open,  but  in  them  was  that  uncertain  look  which 


82  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

Dick  had  seen  before,  and  which  the  lad  so  much 
dreaded. 

"Why,  you  were  struck  down  last  night,  father, 
and  several  miles  from  here.  You  must  have  come 
down  to  the  river  at  a  spot  above  here.  Don't  you  re 
member  that?" 

Mortimer  Arbuckle  tried  to  think,  then  shook  his 
head  sadly. 

"It's  all  a  blur,  Dick.  You  know  my  head  is  not 
as  strong  as  it  might  be." 

"Yes,  yes ;  and  you  must'  not  try  to  think  too  far. 
So  he  got  your  private  papers?" 

"Yes." 

"The  ones  referring  to  that  silver  mine  in  Colo 
rado?" 

"Yes,  and  all  of  the  others." 

At  this  Dick  could  not  help  but  groan.  The 
papers  were  gone — those  precious  documents  by 
which  he  and  his  father  had  hoped  some  day  to  be 
come  rich. 

The  history  of  the  deeds  to  the  silver  mine  was  a 
curious  one.  Two  years  before  Mortimer  Arbuckle 
had  paid  a  visit  to  Creede,  Colorado,  on  business 
connected  with  a  mining  company  then  forming 
under  the  laws  of  the  State  of  New  York. 

While  in  Creede  the  man  had  materially  assisted 


MR.  ARBUCKLE'S  STORY  83 

an  old  miner  named  Burch,  who  was  falling  into  the 
hands  of  a  set  of  swindlers  headed  by  a  rascal  called 
Captain  Mull. 

Mortimer  Arbuckle  had  never  met  Captain  Mull, 
but  he  had  saved  Burch's  claim  for  him,  for  which 
the  old  miner  was  extremely  grateful. 

Over  a  year  later  Burch  had  died  and  left  with 
another  old  miner  the  deeds  to  a  new  mine  of  great 
promise,  deeds  which  had  not  yet  been  recorded. 

The  old  miner  had  forwarded  these  papers,  along 
with  others  of  importance  concerning  the  exact  loca 
tion  of  the  claim,  to  Mortimer  Arbuckle,  and  the 
gentleman  had  then  begun  preparations  to  go  to 
the  West  and  see  if  the  claim  was  really  as  valuable 
as  old  Burch  had  imagined. 

Dick  was  just  out  of  school,  and  would  not  think 
of  remaining  behind,  so  it  was  arranged  that  father 
and  son  should  go  together. 

A  spell  of  sickness  had  detained  the  father  several 
months.  Before  this,  however,  he  had  hired  Jack 
Rasco  to  go  to  Creede  with  him  and  assist  in  locat 
ing  the  new  claim. 

As  Mortimer  Arbuckle  failed  to  come  West,  Jack 
Rasco  returned  to  the  companionship  of  Pawnee 
Brown,  for,  as  already  stated,  he  considered  himself 
the  great  boomer's  right-hand  man. 


84  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

At  last  Mortimer  Arbuckle  had  come  on  with 
Dick,  to  find  Rasco  had  given  his  word  to  Pawnee 
Brown  to  stick  with  the  boomers  until  the  desired 
entrance  into  Oklahoma  was  effected. 

"Yer  will  hev  ter  wait,  Mr.  Arbuckle,"  Jack  had 
said.  "I'm  sorry,  but  I  hev  given  my  word  ter  Paw 
nee  an'  I  wouldn't  break  it  fer  a  cool  million,  thet's 
me." 

"Let  us  go  with  the  boomers !"  Dick  had  returned 
enthusiastically.  "It  will  be  lots  of  fun,  father,  and 
it  will  give  you  a  chance  to  get  back  your  health 
before  you  tie  yourself  down  to  those  silver  mine 
schemes." 

And  rather  against  his  wishes  Mortimer  Arbuckle 
had  consented.  Dick  saw  his  father  was  in  no 
mental  condition  to  locate  claims,  form  a  new  min 
ing  company,  and  do  other  labor  of  this  sort,  and 
trusted  that  the  days  to  be  spent  with  the  boomers 
would  make  him  much  stronger  in  both  body  and 
mind. 

"Do  you  think  the  robber  thought  of  the  deeds 
when  he  robbed  you?"  went  on  Dick,  after  a  pause. 

"I — I — don't  know,  Dick.  It  runs  in  my  mind  he 
spoke  of  the  deeds,  but  I  can't  remember  for  cer 
tain." 

"He  took  your  money?" 


MR.  ARBUCKLE'S  STORY  85 

"Every  cent."  Mortimer  Arbuckle  gave  a  groan. 
"We  are  now  out  here  penniless,  my  son." 

"No  we  are  not,  father.  I  asked  Pawnee  Brown 
for  the  loan  of  ten  dollars  and  he  gave  me  twenty, 
and  said  I  could  have  more  if  I  needed  it." 

"A  good  man — as  generous  as  he  is  brave,"  mur 
mured  Mortimer  Arbuckle.  "Would  the  world  had 
more  of  such  fellows." 

"Pawnee  Brown  and  Jack  Rasco  are  the  best  fel 
lows  in  the  world !"  answered  the  youth  "But, 
come,  let  me  carry  you  to  yonder  house,  where  you 
can  get  dry  and  also  get  something  to  eat." 

He  assisted  his  parent  to  his  feet,  then  lifted  the 
man  to  his  back  and  started  off.  A  backwoodsman 
saw  him  coming,  and  ran  to  meet  him.  Soon  Mor 
timer  Arbuckle  was  in  the  house  and  lying  tucked 
in  on  a  warm  couch. 

A  relapse  followed,  coming  almost  immediately 
after  father  and  son  had  exchanged  stories  and  de 
tail.  In  alarm  Dick  sent  off  the  backwoodsman  for 
a  doctor.  The  medical  man  was  half  an  hour  in 
coming.  After  a  thorough  examination  he  looked 
grave. 

"The  man  must  be  kept  absolutely  quiet,"  he 
said.  "If  you  have  been  talking  to  him  it  has  done 
him  more  harm  than  good.  You  had  better  go  away 
and  leave  him  among  strangers." 


86  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

In  a  further  conversation  Dick  learned  that  the 
backwoodsman,  Peter  Day,  and  his  wife  were  ready 
to  take  charge  of  the  invalid  for  fair  pay,  and  could 
be  trusted  to  do  their  best,  and  it  was  arranged  to 
leave  Mr.  Arbuckle  at  the  house,  while  Dick  re 
turned  to  camp,  hunted  up  Pawnee  Brown  and  Jack 
Rasco  and  tried  to  get  on  the  track  of  the  man  of 
the  red  mask. 

"And  if  I  ever  get  hold  of  him  I'll— I'll— mash 
him,"  said  Dick,  and  the  look  on  his  youthful  but 
stern  face  told  that  he  meant  just  what  he  said. 
The  western  idea  of  shooting  had  not  yet  entered 
his  mind,  but  woe  to  Louis  Vorlange  if  his  villainy 
was  once  unmasked. 

"Do  not  worry  about  me,  father,"  said  Dick  tak 
ing  his  departure.  "I  will  take  care  of  myself,  and  I 
am  sure  that  either  Pawnee  Brown,  Jack  Rasco  or 
myself  can  get  on  the  track  of  the  rascal  who  robbed 
and  struck  you  down." 

"Be  cautious,  Dick,"  murmured  the  sick  man. 
"Be  cautious — for  you  are  all  the  world  to  mel" 
and  he  kissed  his  son  affectionately. 

"Who  could  have  attacked  father?"  he  murmured, 
half  aloud.  "It  was  a  dastardly  thing  to  do.  I  must 
find  out,  even  if  I  have  to  remain  in  the  city.  But 
who  knows  but  what  it  was  one  of  the  boomers? 


MR.  ARBUCKLE'S  STORY  87 

Perhaps  the  man  saw  father  had  money  and  only 
asked  about  his  papers  to  put  him  off  the  track.  As 
a  rule,  the  boomers  are  as  honest  as  men  can  be, 
but  there  are  several  hang-dog  faces  among  them/' 

Dick  had  covered  a  distance  of  half  a  mile  and 
was  within  sight  of  the  spot  where  he  had  been  res 
cued  by  Pawnee  Brown  from  a  watery  grave,  when 
a  murmur  of  voices  broke  upon  his  ear,  coming  from 
a  thicket  down  by  the  river  bank.  The  murmur 
grew  louder  and  he  paused  to  listen. 

Suddenly  two  pistol  shots  rang  out,  followed  by  a 
cry  of  pain  and  rage.  There  was  a  brief  silence, 
then  came  the  words  which  made  Dick's  heart  almost 
stop  beating: 

"Now  I'll  fix  you  for  helping  to  run  me  out  of 
town,  Jack  Rasco !  I  never  forget  my  enemies  !" 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  STRANGE  LETTER. 

To  return  to  Pawnee  Brown  at  the  time  when  he 
made  the  double  discovery  that  Yellow  Elk,  the  ras 
cally  Indian,  was  riding  his  stolen  mare,  Bonnie  Bird, 
and  had  as  his  fair  captive  Nellie  Winthrop,  Jack 
Rasco's  niece. 

For  the  moment  the  great  scout  was  nearly  dum- 
founded  by  the  revelation.  He  had  not  met  Yellow 
Elk  for  several  months,  and  had  imagined  that  the  In 
dian  chief  was  safe  within  the  territorial  reservation 
allotted  to  him  and  his  tribe. 

As  Yellow  Elk  shifted  his  fair  burden,  Nellie  Win- 
throp's  eyes  opened  and  she  started  up  in  alarm. 

"Oh,  you  beast !  Let  me  go !"  she  screamed  faintly. 
She  was  about  to  say  more,  but  Yellow  Elk  clapped 
a  dirty  hand  over  her  mouth  and  silenced  her. 

"No  speak  more,"  he  muttered  in  his  broken  English. 
"White  girl  speak  too  much." 

"But — but  where  are  you  taking  me?   This  is  not 
the  boomers'  camp." 
(88) 


A    STRANGE    LETTER  89 

"We  come  to  camp  soon — girl  in  too  much  hurry," 
rejoined  the  wily  redskin. 

"I  was  told  the  camp  was  but  a  short  distance  out 
of  town." 

"Camp  he  move.  Pawnee  Brown  not  safe  near  big 
town,"  went  on  Yellow  Elk. 

"You're  a  good  one  for  fairy  tales,"  was  the  boom 
er's  silent  comment.  He  had  withdrawn  to  the  shelter 
of  the  thick  brush  and  sat  his  steed  like  a  statue,  while 
his  pistol  was  ready  for  use,  with  his  forefinger  upon 
the  trigger. 

"But — but — what  happened  to  me?"  went  on  Nellie, 
struggling  to  sit  up,  while  Yellow  Elk  held  her  back. 

"White  girl  lose  breath  and  shut  eyes,"  was  the  an 
swer,  meaning  that  Nellie  had  fainted.  "No  more 
fight— Yellow  Elk  no  hurt  her." 

"I  will  go  no  further  with  you — I  do  not  believe  your 
story!"  cried  Nellie.  "Let  me  down." 

At  these  words  the  face  of  the  Indian  chief  grew 
dark,  and  he  muttered  several  words  in  his  own  lan 
guage  which  Nellie  did  not  understand,  but  which 
Pawnee  Brown  made  out  to  be  that  the  White  Bird 
was  too  sweet  to  be  lost  so  easily,  he  must  take  her 
to  his  cave  in  the  mountains. 

"Will  you?"  murmured  Pawnee  Brown.  "Well, 
maybe,  but  not  if  I  know  it." 


90  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

The  mentioning  of  a  cave  in  the  mountains  made 
Pawnee  Brown  curious.  Did  Yellow  Elk  have  such 
a  hiding  place?  Where  was  it  located,  and  was  the 
Indian  chief  its  only  user? 

"Perhaps  some  more  of  these  reds  have  broken 
loose,"  he  thought.  "I  would  like  to  investigate.  Who 
knows  but  what  the  cavalrymen  are  after  them  and 
not  the  boomers,  as  Dan  Gilbert  imagined." 

A  brief  consideration  of  the  subject  and  his  mind 
was  made  up.  So  long  as  the  Indian  did  not  offer 
positive  harm  to  Nellie  Winthrop  he  would  not  expose 
himself,  but  follow  on  behind,  in  hope  of  locating  the 
cave  and  learning  more  of  Yellow  Elk's  intended 
movements. 

"Let  me  go,  I  say !"  cried  Nellie,  but  the  Indian  chief 
merely  shook  his  head. 

"White  girl  be  no  fool.  Indian  friend;  no  hurt 
one  hair  of  her  head.  Soon  we  be  in  camp  and  she 
will  see  what  a  friend  Yellow  Elk  has  been." 

At  this  Nellie  shook  her  head.  That  painted  and 
dirty  face  was  far  too  repulsive  to  be  trusted.  But  there 
was  no  help  for  it ;  the  Indian  held  her  as  in  a  vise,  and 
she  was  forced  to  submit. 

Moving  along  the  trail,  Indian  and  horse  passed 
within  a  dozen  feet  of  where  Pawnee  Brown  sat,  still 
as  silent  as  a  block  of  marble.  It  was  a  trying  moment. 


A    STRANGE    LETTER  91 

What  if  the  horse  he  rode  should  make  a  noise,  or  if 
his  own  Bonnie  Bird  should  instinctively  discover  him 
and  give  the  alarm  ? 

"Poor  Bonnie  Bird,  to  have  to  carry  a  dirty  redskin," 
thought  the  boomer.  The  ears  of  the  beautiful  mare 
went  up  as  she  drew  close,  and  she  appeared  to  hesi 
tate.  But  Yellow  Elk  urged  her  along  by  several 
punches  in  the  ribs,  and  in  a  moment  more  the  danger 
of  discovery  just  then  was  past. 

On  went  the  tall  Indian  along  the  ravine,  peering 
cautiously  ahead,  with  one  hand  around  Nellie's  waist 
and  the  other  holding  the  reins  and  his  pistol.  He 
knew  he  was  on  a  dangerous  mission,  and  he  stood 
ready,  if  unmasked,  to  sell  his  worthless  life  dearly. 

Pawnee  Brown  followed  at  a  distance  of  a  hundred 
feet,  taking  care  to  pick  his  way  so  that  his  horse's 
hoofs  should  strike  only  the  dirt  and  soft*  moss,  and 
that  the  brush  growing  among  the  tall  trees  should 
screen  him  as  much  as  possible. 

Presently  he  saw  the  Indian  halt  and  stare  long  and 
hard  at  a  tall  pine  growing  in  front  of  a  large  flat  rock. 

"Wonder  if  he  has  missed  his  way?"  mused  the 
scout,  but  a  moment  later  Yellow  Elk  proceeded  on 
ward,  faster  than  ever. 

Coming  up  to  the  pine,  Pawnee  Brown  saw  instantly 
what  had  attracted  the  redskin's  attention.  There  was 


Q2  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

a  blaze  on  the  tree  six  inches  square,  and  on  the  blaze 
was  written  in  charcoal : 

10  f.  E.    D.  G. 

"Hullo,  a  message  from  Dan,"  he  cried,  half  aloud. 
He  had  read  the  strange  marking  without  difficulty.  It 
ran  as  follows : 

"Ten  feet  east.  DAN  GILBERT/' 

Pacing  off  the  ten  feet  in  the  direction  indicated, 
Pawnee  Brown  located  a  flat  rock.  Raising  this,  he 
uncovered  a  small,  circular  hole,  in  the  centre  of  which 
lay  a  leaf  torn  from  a  note  book,  on  which  was  written : 

"I  write  this  to  notify  Pawnee  Brown  or  any  of  my 
other  friends  that  I  have  gone  up  the  ravine  on  the 
trail  of  half  a  dozen  cavalry  scouts  who  are  up  here, 
not  only  to  watch  for  boomers,  but  also  to  try  and  lo 
cate  several  Indians  who  have  left  the  reservation 
without  permission.  I  will  be  back  soon. 

"DAN  GILBERT." 

The  boomer  read  the  note  with  interest.  Then  he 
hastily  scribbled  off  the  answer : 

"Have  read  the  note  that  was  left.  Am  following 
Yellow  Elk,  who  stole  my  mare  and  has  Jack  Rasco's 
niece  a  captive.  Yellow  Elk  is  bound  for  some  cave  in 
the  mountains.  PAWNEE  BROWN." 


A    STRANGE    LETTER 


93 


The  answer  finished,  the  boomer  placed  it  in  the 
hole,  let  back  the  flat  rock  and  wrote  on  the  blaze  of 
the  tree,  under  Dan  Gilbert's  initials : 

P.  B. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

YELLOW  ELK. 

The  writing  of  the  answer  to  Gilbert's  communica 
tion  had  taken  several  minutes,  and  now  Yellow  Elk 
was  entirely  out  of  sight.  But  Pawnee  Brown  was 
certain  of  the  trail  the  Indian  had  taken,  and  by  a 
little  faster  riding  soon  brought  the  rascal  again  into 
view. 

Yellow  Elk  was  now  descending  into  a  valley  bound 
on  the  north  by  a  rolling  hill  and  on  the  south  by  a 
cliff  varying  from  twenty  to  forty  feet  in  height.  Even 
at  a  distance  Pawnee  Brown  could  see  that  the  Indian 
was  having  considerable  trouble  with  Nellie  Winthrop, 
who  felt  now  assured  that  her  first  suspicions  were 
correct  and  that  Yellow  Elk  had  taken  her  far  from 
the  boomers'  camp. 

"I  will  not  go  with  you !"  cried  the  girl,  and  did  her 
best  to  break  from  the  warrior's  grasp.  But  Yellow 
Elk's  hold  was  a  good  one,  and  she  only  succeeded 
in  tearing  her  dress. 

"We  be  dare  in  few  minutes  now,"  replied  the  red 
skin.    "Den  all  be  right — you  wait  and  see." 
(94) 


YELLOW   ELK  95 

"I  won't  go  with  you — let  me  down!"  screamed 
Nellie,  but  he  silenced  her  by  a  fierce  gesture  which 
made  the  boomer's  blood  boil.  It  was  only  by  the  ex 
ercise  of  all  his  will  power  that  the  great  scout  kept 
himself  from  shooting  down  Yellow  Elk  on  the  spot. 

The  end  of  the  long  cliff  was  almost  reached  when 
the  Indian  chief  reined  up  the  mare  and  sprang  to  the 
ground,  still  holding  Nellie  tight.  As  he  held  the  girl 
by  the  wrist  with  one  hand  he  led  Bonnie  Bird  forward 
with  the  other.  In  a  few  seconds,  girl,  mare  and  In 
dian  had  disappeared  from  view  in  the  midst  of  a  thick 
fringe  of  bushes. 

They  had  scarcely  vanished  when  Pawnee  Brown 
was  on  the  ground  and  had  tethered  his  horse  in  a 
little  grove  of  pines  a  hundred  feet  away.  This  done, 
he  stole  forward  to  what  he  felt  must  be  the  mouth 
of  the  cave  Yellow  Elk  had  mentioned. 

The  great  scout  knew  he  was  on  delicate  and  dan 
gerous  ground.  There  was  no  telling  how  many  In 
dians  beside  Yellow  Elk  there  might  be  in  the  vicinity, 
who  had  left  the  reservation  without  permission;  it 
was  likely  all  who  were  there  would  be  in  war  paint 
ready  to  kill  him  on  sight. 

"The  reds  who  train  with  Yellow  Elk  are  not  to  be 
trusted,"  he  muttered.  "Yellow  Elk  wouldn't  like  any 
thing  better  than  to  scalp  me  just  for  a  taste  of  his  old 


96  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

blood-thirsty  days.  Making  a  'good  Indian*  out  of 
such  a  fellow  is  all  nonsense — it  simply  can't  be  done." 

Pawnee  Brown  had  dropped  down  in  the  long  grass 
and  was  now  wiggling  along  like  a  snake  through  the 
bushes  and  between  the  rocks.  Soon  the  entrance  to 
the  cave  was  gained,  hidden  by  more  bushes.  He  hesi 
tated,  looked  to  see  that  his  pistol  was  all  right,  shoved 
the  bushes  aside  and  slipped  within. 

It  was  so  dark  inside  that  for  a  moment  he  could 
distinguish  nothing.  But  his  ears  were  on  the  alert 
and  he  heard  the  footsteps  of  Yellow  Elk  resounding 
at  a  distance  of  fully  fifty  yards.  He  could  hear  noth 
ing  of  Nellie,  and  rightfully  concluded  that  the  Indian 
had  been  compelled  to  pick  her  up  and  carry  her. 

An  instant  later  he  stumbled  close  to  his  mare.  Bon 
nie  Bird  recognized  him  with  a  snort  of  joy. 

"Sh-sh!"  he  said  softly,  and  the  gentle  animal  un 
derstood  and  made  no  further  sound.  But  she  gladly 
rubbed  her  soft  nose  up  and  down  his  neck  to  signify 
her  pleasure. 

"Good  Bonnie  Bird,"  he  whispered.  "I'll  be  with 
you  soon  again,"  and  went  on  after  Yellow  Elk. 

The  Indian  had  now  come  to  a  halt  and  was  striking 
a  match.  Soon  some  dry  brush  was  set  on  fire  and  the 
redskin  heaped  upon  it  some  stout  tree  branches,  for 
the  air  in  the  cave  was  chilly. 


YELLOW   ELK 


97 


"Now  me  and  white  girl  have  long  talk,"  said  Yel 
low  Elk,  as  he  motioned  Nellie  to  a  seat. 

"Where  is  the  boomers'  camp?"  she  faltered,  hardly 
knowing  how  to  answer  him. 

"Camp  ten  miles  from  here,"  came  the  short  reply. 
"You  here  all  alone  with  Yellow  Elk." 

At  this  the  frightened  girl  gave  a  scream  of  terror. 

"You  base  wretch!"  she  sobbed.  "Take  me  back 
at  once." 

"No  take  back— Yellow  Elk  no  fool.  White  girl 
stay  here— make  Yellow  Elk  good  squaw,  maybe," 
and  he  grinned  into  her  pretty  face. 

But  now  an  interruption  came  which  all  but  stunned 
Yellow  Elk.  Leaping  from  his  hiding  place,  Pawnee 
Brown  pounced  upon  the  redskin,  caught  him  by  the 
throat  and  hurled  him  backward  and  almost  into  the 
midst  of  the  fire! 

"You  miserable  dog!"  came  from  the  scout's  lips. 

"Oh,  sir,  save  me  from  that  Indian!"  came  from 
Nellie,  as  she  quickly  turned  to  the  man  she  felt  sure 
would  assist  her. 

"I  will,  Miss  Winthrop,  don't  fear,"  answered 
Pawnee  Brown.  "So,  Yellow  Elk,  we  meet  again.  I 
reckon  you  remember  the  man  who  kicked  you  all 
around  the  agency  two  years  ago  because  you  tried 
to  steal  his  new  pair  of  boots?" 


9  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

"Ugh !"  grunted  Yellow  Elk.  He  had  just  managed' 
to  scramble  out  of  the  fire,  and  was  beating  out  the 
flames  which  had  caught  on  a  fringe  of  his  garments. 
"Pawnee  Brown." 

He  muttered  a  fierce  imprecation  in  his  native 
tongue.  Then,  before  Pawnee  Brown  could  stop  him 
his  pistol  flashed  in  the  firelight.  He  took  aim  at  the 
scout's  head  and  fired. 

But  though  the  action  of  the  Indian  chief  was  quick, 
the  movement  of  the  boomer  was  quicker. 

Many  times  had  he  been  under  fire,  and  he  had 
learned  to  drop  when  occasion  required  as  rapidly  as 
it  could  be  done. 

With  the  pressure  upon  the  pistol  trigger  he  went 
down  like  a  flash  and  the  bullet  intended  for  his  head 
merely  grazed  the  top  of  his  hat  and  flattened  itself 
upon  the  cave  wall  opposite. 

"Bah!"  hissed  Yellow  Elk,  when  he  saw  how  he 
had  missed.  He  attempted  to  take  him  once  more, 
but  now  Pawnee  Brown  hurled  himself  on  the  red 
skin,  turning  the  barrel  of  the  weapon  aside,  and  both 
went  to  the  stone  flooring  with  a  crash.  Nellie  Win- 
throp  let  out  a  shriek  of  terror. 

"Do  not  let  him  shoot  you!  Make  him  throw  the 
pistol  away !"  she  cried,  as  she  wrung  her  hands.  She 
would  have  liked  to  assist  Pawnee  Brown,  but  could 
not  see  how  it  could  just  then  be  done. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
NELLIE'S  FLIGHT. 

Over  and  over  on  the  stone  flooring  rolled  the 
boomer  and  his  red  enemy,  now  close  to  the  fire  and 
again  off  to  one  side,  where  there  was  a  slight  hol 
low  still  wet  from  the  recent  storm. 

Pawnee  Brown  had  Yellow  Elk  by  the  throat  and 
across  the  back,  while  the  Indian  held  his  antag 
onist  by  the  shoulder  with  one  hand,  while  trying  to 
beat  his  brains  out  with  the  pistol  that  was  in  the 
other. 

Once  Yellow  Elk  succeeded  in  getting  in  a  glanc 
ing  blow,  which  drew  blood,  but  did  no  great  harm. 
But  now  Pawnee  Brown's  grip  was  tightening.  The 
redskin  was  choking.  His  eyes  bulged  from  their 
sockets  and  his  tongue  hung  out  several  inches. 

''Ugh !"  gasped  the  Indian  chief.  In  vain  he  tried 
to  shake  off  that  grip.  It  was  like  that  of  a  bulldog 
and  could  not  be  loosened.  He  struck  out  wildly, 
but  the  pistol  butt  only  landed  upon  Pawnee 
Brown's  shoulder,  a  shoulder  that  was  as  tough  as 
iron  and  could  stand  any  amount  of  pounding. 

(99) 


IOO  THE   BOY    LAND  BOOMER 

» 

Suddenly  the  tactics  of  the  Indian  changed. 
Knowing  that  he  was  in  immediate  danger  of  death 
by  choking,  and  feeling  how  unlikely  it  was  that  he 
could  throw  off  his  assailant,  he  let  fall  his  pistol 
and  caught  the  boomer  around  the  body.  Then  he 
began  to  roll  toward  the  fire,  which  was  now  blazing 
up  more  brightly  than  ever. 

The  scout  saw  the  redskin's  intention  instantly, 
but  before  he  could  stop  it  both  he  and  his  enemy 
were  close  to  the  flames. 

"Me  die  you  die  too!"  hissed  Yellow  Elk,  and 
gave  another  roll,  which  took  both  himself  and 
Pawnee  Brown  into  the  very  edge  of  the  blaze. 

"Take  care !  You  will  be  burnt  up  !"  cried  Nellie 
Winthrop,  and  gave  a  scream.  Rushing  forward, 
she  caught  Pawnee  Brown  by  the  arm  and  at 
tempted  to  draw  him  back. 

But  of  this  there  was  no  need,  for  the  great  scout 
had  already  changed  his  tactics,  feeling  convinced 
that  to  choke  Yellow  Elk  was  now  impossible.  His 
hand  left  the  redskin's  throat,  to  double  up  and  sail 
forth  into  a  crushing  blow,  which  took  the  Indian 
chief  beneath  the  eyes  and  made  him  see  more  stars 
than  were  ever  beheld  in  the  blue  canopy  of  heaven. 
As  Yellow  Elk  fell  back  Pawnee  Brown  did  likewise, 
but  in  a  different  direction. 


NELLIE  S   FLIGHT  IOI 

The  Indian  was  now  in  the  midst  of  the  flames 
and  the  cry  he  let  out  was  truly  blood-curdling.  Ex 
cited  as  he  was,  Pawnee  Brown  did  not  let  the  in 
tonation  of  that  cry  escape  him.  Understanding  the 
Indian  language  well,  he  knew  it  was  more  than  a 
cry  of  terror  or  pain,  it  was  a  call  for  help !  Other 
Indians  must  be  somewhere  in  the  vicinity. 

"You  had  better  run  for  it!"  he  said,  turning  to 
Nellie.  "Mount  my  horse — the  mare  the  Indian 
had — and  ride  down  the  ravine." 

"Run?"  she  faltered. 

"Yes,  and  hurry.  Hark !  As  I  thought !  Other 
Indians  are  coming!" 

The  boomer  was  right.  The  footsteps  sounded 
from  the  opposite  end  of  the  cave,  which  had  two 
entrances,  similar  to  each  other. 

By  this  time  Yellow  Elk  had  rolled  out  of  the  fire 
and  was  dancing  around  like  a  madman,  trying  to 
beat  out  the  flames  which  had  communicated  to  his 
clothing. 

As  Nellie  ran  off,  Pawnee  Brown  drew  his  pistol, 
resolved  to  not  only  defend  himself  but  cover  the 
girl's  retreat  as  well. 

Little  did  he  dream  of  the  fresh  perils  which 
awaited  Nellie.  What  those  perils  were  the  imme 
diate  chapters  which  follow  will  relate. 


IO2  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

As  Yellow  Elk  danced  around,  Pawnee  Brown 
leveled  his  revolver  at  him. 

Crack !  went  the  weapon  and  the  Indian  chief  fell 
back  with  a  wound  through  his  shoulder.  The  flick 
ering  of  the  fire-light  had  saved  him  from  death. 

A  cry  that  was  little  less  than  a  war  whoop  now 
sounded  out,  and  with  this  four  other  Indians  ap 
peared,  two  whom  Pawnee  Brown  had  before  seen 
in  Yellow  Elk's  company  and  two  who  were  utter 
strangers  to  him. 

"Capture  the  white  dog !"  howled  Yellow  Elk,  in 
his  native  tongue.  "Shoot  the  dog  down!" 

"Pawnee  Brown !"  grunted  one  of  the  newcomers, 
and  up  went  several  pistols.  The  scout  fired  at  the 
same  time,  and  one  of  the  strange  Indians  threw  up 
his  hands  and  fell  lifeless.  But  the  bullet  this 
Indian  had  sent  on  its  mission  struck  the  boomer 
across  the  forehead  and  sent  the  scout  to  the  floor 
ing  of  the  cave  senseless. 

When  Pawnee  Brown  came  to  a  clear  mind  again 
he  found  himself  aching  in  every  portion  of  his  body, 
for  in  their  usual  custom  the  Indians  on  finding  him 
helpless  had  each  taken  their  turn  at  kicking  him  to 
suit  their  pleasure,  Yellow  Elk  especially  delighting 
in  this  cruel  performance. 

The  scout  was  bound  tightly  with  a  lariat  which 


NELLIE'S  FLIGHT  103 

started  from  his  feet  and  was  wound  and  crossed 
up  to  his  very  neck,  making  body,  legs  and  arms  as 
stiff  as  those  of  an  Egyptian  mummy.  He  lay  on 
the  cave  flooring  not  a  dozen  feet  from  the  fire, 
which  Yellow  Elk  was  in  the  act  of  replenishing. 

As  he  opened  his  eyes  one  of  the  other  Indians, 
Spotted  Nose  by  name,  stopped  in  front  of  him. 
The  scout  instantly  closed  his  eyes  again,  but  it  was 
too  late. 

"You  all  right,"  cried  Spotted  Nose,  and  gave 
him  a  sharp  kick  in  the  side. 

"Well  I  won't  be  if  you  keep  on  kicking  me,"  re 
plied  the  boomer,  as  cheerfully  as  he  could,  although 
it  must  be  admitted  he  was  much  disturbed.  He 
glanced  around  and  was  relieved  to  see  that  Nellie 
was  nowhere  in  sight. 

Yellow  Elk  now  came  up  and  also  kicked  the 
prostrate  scout. 

"You  heap  dirty  dog !"  he  exclaimed,  his  face  full 
of  bitter  hatred.  "You  shoot  me — you  die  for  dat." 

"I  suppose  I  will — if  you  have  the  saying  of  that, 
Yellow  Elk.  But  perhaps  you  won't  dare  to  kill 
me." 

"Why  not  Indian  dare?  Indian  dare  anything," 
growled  Yellow  Elk. 

"My  friends  are  not  far  off — they  will  soon  come 


104  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

here,  and  if  you  harm  me  it  will  go  hard  with  you." 

At  this  all  of  the  Indians  laughed. 

"No  white  man  around  here — we  on  guard  all 
time,"  said  Spotted  Nose. 

"On  guard,  eh?  And  yet  you  didn't  see  me  come 
in,  Dirty  Nose?" 

"Spotted  Nose  did  see  Pawnee  Brown,"  was  the 
answer;  but  this  was  a  falsehood.  An  Indian  hates 
to  admit  that  he  has  been  in  any  manner  outwitted 
by  a  white  man. 

"You  tell  a  good  story,  Dirty  Nose."  Pawnee 
Brown  turned  to  Yellow  Elk.  "Yellow,  how  did 
you  run  across  that  girl?" 

"Yellow  Elk  no  tell  his  secrets,"  came  the  answer. 
'Pawnee  Brown  fool  to  ask.     Pawnee  Brown  think 
him  heap  sly,  like  fox,  but  him  sly  only  like  cow !" 
This  produced  laugh,  for  the  Indians  from 

the  Indian  Territory  are  not  as  stolid  as  were  their 
foi  c-fathers,  and  thoroughly  enjoy  their  own  rude 
manner  of  joking. 

Presently  Yellow  Elk  turned  to  his  companions 
and  spoke  to  them  in  an  undertone.  A  moment 
later,  he  spec!  away,  but  whether  in  pursuit  of  Nellie 
Winthrop  or  not,  Pawnee  Brown  could  not  tell. 

The  Indian  chief  was  gone  fully  an  hour,  and 
came  back  looking  unusually  grave. 


NELLIE'S  FLIGHT  105 

Pawnee  Brown  had  tried  in  vain  to  get  Spotted 
Nose  and  the  other  Indian  to  talk — to  tell  him  why 
they  had  left  the  reservation.  Not  one  would  speak 
further  than  to  tell  him  to  keep  quiet. 

On  returning,  Yellow  Elk  at  once  set  to  work  to 
rig  up  an  upright  pole  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling 
of  the  cave,  using  a  heavy  tree  branch  for  the  pur 
pose.  The  upright  was  placed  close  to  where  the 
smoke  from  the  fire  found  a  vent  through  several 
large  cracks  in  the  ceiling,  and  the  boomer  watched 
these  proceedings  with  much  alarm. 

The  Indians  were  erecting  a  fire-stake,  such  as 
they  had  used  in  the  wild  west  when  some  victim 
was  to  be  roasted  alive ! 

"Heavens!  can  that  be  meant  for  me?"  was  the 
question  he  asked  himself. 

The  stake  planted  and  fastened  firmly,  Yellow 
Elk  heaped  some  fresh,  dry  brush  around  its  bottom 
and  then  came  up  to  Pawnee  Brown. 

"Pawnee  Brown  see  the  fire-stake?"  he  asked,  his 
savage  eyes  gleaming  like  two  stars. 

"I  do,  Yellow.    Who  is  it  for?" 

"Why  does  Pawnee  Brown  ask?  Does  he  not 
deserve  death?" 

"I  suppose  I  do — according  to  your  notion." 

"Pawnee     Brown     shall     burn — he    shall     burn 


106  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

slowly/'  went  on  Yellow  Elk,  meaning  that  he 
would  make  the  great  scout's  torture  last  as  long 
as  possible. 

"Your  training  en  the  reservation  hasn't  civilized 
you  much,  Yellow,  if  that's  the  way  you  feel  about 
it." 

"I  hate  white  man — all  of  them,"  grumbled  the 
Indian  chief.  "They  take  all  my  land  away  and  put 
me  in  a  little  yard  to  live.  I  would  kill  all  white 
man  if  could,"  and  he  grated  his  teeth. 

A  moment  later  Yellow  Elk  nodded  to  the  other 
Indians  and  all  leaped  forward  and  bound  Pawnee 
Brown  fast  to  the  fire-stake.  This  done  the  red 
skins  heaped  the  brush  around  the  scout's  feet. 

"Now  the  dirty  white  dog  can  die !"  hissed  Yellow 
Elk,  as  he  advanced  with  a  torch.  "He  can  pray,  but 
the  white  man's  Great  Father  cannot  save  him !  He 
must  burn  until  his  bones  are  as  charcoal !" 

And  so  speaking  Yellow  Elk  thrust  the  torch  into 
the  dry  brush  and  set  it  on  fire ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

DICK  TO  THE  RESCUE. 

"That  man  is  going  to  shoot  Jack  Rasco!" 

Such  was  the  thought  which  rushed  into  Dick  Ar- 
buckle's  mind  as  he  heard  the  fatal  words  spoken  in 
the  woods  near  the  river  bank. 

He  could  not  see  either  of  the  men,  but  he  felt  tol 
erably  certain  in  his  mind  that  Rasco's  assailant  was 
Stillwater,  the  gambler,  who  had  been  run  out  of  Ar 
kansas  City  by  Pawnee  Brown,  Rasco,  Clemmer  and 
a  dozen  others. 

"Would  you  kill  me?"  came  in  Rasco's  voice.  The 
boomer  was  concerned  and  was  doing  his  best  to  gain 
time,  in  the  hope  that  something  would  turn  up  to  his 
advantage. 

"Kill  you?"  sneered  Stillwater.  "Do  you  think  I'm 
going  to  put  up  with  the  way  I've  been  treated?  Not 
much!  I  had  a  fine  thing  in  Arkansas  City — some 
thing  worth  a  thousand  a  week  to  me,  and  you  and 
your  friends  spoiled  it  all.  I'm  going  to  settle  with 
you,  and  after  that  I  shall  hunt  up  Pawnee  Brown 
and  the  rest  and  settle  with  them,  also." 

(107) 


IO8  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

"You'll  have  your  hands  full  a-settlin'  with  Paw 
nee/' 

"Bah!  I  am  not  afraid  of  him.  He  had  me  foul 
over  to  the  Golden  Pick,  but  I'll  be  careful  when  next 
we  meet.  But  I'll  not  waste  time  with  you  here, 
Rasco.  I've  got  you  alone  and  'dead  men  tell  no 
tales.'  " 

"Alone?"  Jack  Rasco  began  to  smile.  "You're 
mistaken.  Look  behind  you." 

Stillwater  started,  but  did  not  look  back. 

"That's  an  old  dodge,  Rasco,  but  you  can't  work 
it  off  on  me.  I  have  you  alone  and  I'm  going  to  end 
the  business  right  here." 

"Not  yet !"  cried  a  youthful  voice  behind  Stillwater, 
and  crash !  down  came  a  heavy  stick,  hitting  the  gam 
bler  squarely  upon  the  head  and  sending  him  with  a 

thud  to  the  earth. 

As  Stillwater  went  down,  Rasco  leaped  forward  and 
came  down  upon  him.  But  this  movement  was  use 
less.  The  rascal  was  more  than  three-quarters  knocked 
out  and  lay  for  several  minutes  helpless. 

"I  owe  you  one  fer  that,  Dick  Arbuckle!"  cried 
Rasco,  gratefully.  "Yer  came  in  the  nick  o'  time!" 
Now  the  peril  was  over  the  boomer  dropped  back  into 
his  own  peculiar  manner  of  speech. 

"I  am  glad  I  happened  this  way,"  returned  Dick, 


DICK   TO   THE   RESCUE 

as  he  drew  a  long  breath.  "Gosh !  what  a  lot  of  ex 
citement  we  are  passing  through  out  here !  More  than 
I  experienced  in  all  my  life  in  New  York." 

"The  West  is  the  place  fer  stirrin'  times,  lad."  Jack 
Rasco  turned  to  his  prostrate  foe.  "Wall,  Stillwater, 
do  yer  think  it  war  a  trick  now,  tellin'  yer  ter  look 
behind  yer?" 

The  rascal  answered  with  a  groan. 

"My  head  is  split  in  two!"  he  cried.  "Who  struck 
me?  What,  that  boy?  I'll  remember  you,  youngster, 
and  some  day "  He  did  not  finish. 

"I  ain't  done  with  yer  yet,  Stillwater,"  said  Rasco. 
"You  war  goin'  ter  shoot  me.  I  reckon  turn  about  is 
fair  play,  ain't  it?" 

"Would  you — you  shoot  me — now?"  faltered  the 
card  sharp.  At  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  was  a  cow 
ard. 

"Why  not?" 

"I  wasn't  going  to  do  it,  Rasco — I  was  only — only 
scaring  you." 

"Thet's  a  whopper — made  outer  the  hull  cloth,  Still- 
water.  Yer  war  going  ter  shoot  me — an'  I'm  a-goin' 
ter  be  jess  as  accommodating"  and  on  the  sly  Rasco 
winked  at  Dick  who  was  much  relieved  to  think  the 
boomer  did  not  really  intend  to  carry  out  his  blood 
thirsty  design. 


IIO  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

The  face  of  Stillwater  grew  as  white  as  a  sheet  and 
he  trembled  from  head  to  foot. 

"Don't!  don't  you  do  it!  Let  me  off,  and  I'll  give 
you  all  the  money  I  have  with  me." 

"It  won't  do,  Stillwater." 

"It's  nearly  a  thousand  dollars.  Take  every  cent  of 
it  and  let  me  go!" 

The  gambler  fairly  grovelled  at  Jack  Rasco's  feet. 
His  horror  of  dying  was  something  fearful  to  con 
template. 

"I'll  give  yer  one  chance,  Stillwater,"  said  Rasco,  in 
deep  disgust,  and  at  once  the  rascal's  face  took  on  a 
look  of  hope.  "Yer  ain't  fit  ter  die,  an'  thet's  why  I 
say  it.  Promise  ter  let  me  an'  my  friends  alone  in 
the  future." 

"I  promise." 

"Promise  ter  give  up  cheatin'  at  cards.  If  yer  don't, 
some  day  it  will  be  the  death  of  yer." 

''I'll  never  cheat  again." 

"All  right,  I'll  take  yer  at  yer  word.  Now  come 
on  down  to  the  river." 

"What  for?" 

"You  hev  got  ter  swim  across  to  the  other  side  whar 
yer  belong.  Decent  folks  ain't  a-goin'  ter  have  yer  over 
here." 

Again  Stillwater  was  much  disturbed.     But  Jack 


DICK  TO  THE  RESCUE  III 

Rasco  was  firm,  and  soon  the  trio  were  down  by  the 
water's  edge.  Still  pale,  the  gambler  plunged  into  the 
river  and  struck  out  for  the  opposite  shore.  It  was 
a  hard  battle  against  that  current,  but  presently  Rasco 
and  Dick  saw  him  wade  out  at  the  other  side.  He 
shook  his  fist  at  them  savagely,  then  disappeared  like 
a  flash  into  the  woods. 

"He'll  not  keep  any  of  his  promises,"  said  Dick. 

"Keep  'em?  Yer  didn't  expect  it  o'  thet  viper,  lad? 
No,  he's  an  enemy  to  the  death.  But  whar  did  yer 
come  from,  and  have  yer  found  out  anything  about 
yer  poor  father?" 

Dick's  story  was  soon  told,  to  which  Rasco  listened 
with  much  interest. 

"I  don't  believe  a  boomer  would  rob  yer  father," 
said  he,  reflectively.  "Like  as  not  it  war  somebody 
who  followed  yer  from  New  York — some  man  as 
knew  the  value  of  them  air  minin'  deeds." 

"Well,  I'll  go  back  to  camp  and  make  a  search,  any 
way,  Rasco.  But  what  brought  you  here?" 

"I'm  lookin'  fer  my  niece,  Nellie  Winthrop." 

And  Rasco  told  of  the  letter  received  and  of  how 
Nellie  was  missing  and  no  trace  of  her  could  be  found 
anywhere.  Dick  was  almost  as  much  disturbed  as 
Rasco,  for  he  still  carried  in  his  mind  a  picture  of  the 
beautiful  girl  he  had  saved  from  Juan  Donomez's  in 
sults. 


II2  THE   BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

"Can  the  Mexican  have  wajlaid  her?"  he  asked. 
"Perhaps,"  said  the  man  of  the  plains.    "But  I've 
hunted  the  city  high  and  low." 

A  short  while  after  the  two  found  themselves  in 
the  town  once  more.  Nellie  had  put  up  at  the  Com 
mercial  Hotel,  and  to  this  hostelry  they  made  their 
way  and  entered  the  office. 

"No  news  of  the  young  lady,"  said  the  clerk  in 
charge,  who  had  been  interviewed  before.  "I  am  quite 
certain  she  started  for  the  boomers'  camp  on  horse 
back." 

Rasco  heaved  a  sigh. 

"Might  as  well  go  back,"  he  said  to  Dick,  then  as 
he  saw  the  boy  start  he  continued:  "What's  up?  Do 
yer  see  anything  of  her?'' 

"No,  Rasco.  But  look  at  that  man,  the  fellow  sit 
ting  down  by  the  corner  table  in  the  reading  room,  he 
with  the  brown  hat." 

"I  see  him.    What  of  him?" 

"He's  from  New  York— a  fellow  who  used  to  come 
sneaking  around  father's  office,  trying  to  gather  in 
formation  about  mining  shares." 

'  "Gee  shoo,  Dick!  Yer  don't  mean  it!"  Jack  Rasco 
was  all  attention  instantly.  "Maybe  he's  the  rascal 
as  knocked  yer  dad  over?" 

"Perhaps.    If  I —    There  is  a  man  joining  him." 


DICK  TO  THE  RESCUE  113 

"I've  seen  thet  chap  afore.  Tears  tei  me  he  works 
fer  the  government." 

"Do  you  know  his  name? 

"No.     Wot's  the  other  fellow's  handle?" 

"Dike  Powell.  He  is  known  as  a  Wall  street 
sharper.  I  wish  I  could  hear  what  the  two  have  to 
say  to  each  other.  Yet  I  don't  want  Dike  Powell  to 
see  me." 

"It's  easy  enough,  lad.  Thar's  a  window  close  to 
the  table,  an'  it's  open.  We'll  walk  out  on  the  veranda, 
and  get  under  the  opening.  Come." 

In  a  second  more  they  were  outside.  Tiptoeing  their 
way  across  the  veranda,  which  was  deserted,  they  soon 
found  themselves  close  to  the  open  window  mentioned. 

"And  so  that  is  settled,"  they  heard  the  man  from 
New  York  remark.  "I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  Vorlange." 

Vorlange!  Dick  started  and  so  did  Jack  Rasco. 
The  boy  was  trying  to  think  where  he  had  heard  it 
before.  Ah,  he  had  it  now.  Many  and  many  a  time 
had  he  heard  his  parent  murmur  that  name  in  his  sleep, 
and  the  name  was  coupled  with  many  other  things, 
dreadful  to  remember.  Surely  there  was  some  awful 
mystery  here.  What  made  his  father  mutter  that  name 
in  his  dreams,  and  why  at  such  time  was  he  talking 
of  murder  and  hanging,  and  sobbing  that  he  was  in 
nocent?  A  cold  chill  crept  down  the  boy's  backbone. 
Was  the  heart  of  that  secret  to  be  laid  bare  at  last? 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AN    IMPORTANT    CONVERSATION. 

"Yes,  it's  settled,  Powell;  and  as  soon  as  we  are 
done  here  with  the  boomers,  I'll  get  to  work  and 
find  out  what  the  claim  is  worth." 

"How  about  being  shadowed  in  the  affair?" 

"I'm  not  afraid — I'm  laying  my  plans  too  well," 
answered  Louis  Vorlange.  "I  would  go  ahead  at 
once,  but  to  throw  up  my  position  under  the  gov 
ernment  just  now  might  excite  suspicions." 

"Have  you  the  papers  with  you?" 

"No ;  I  left  them  at  the  cavalry  camp.  They  are 
too  valuable  to  carry  in  one's  coat  pocket." 

"Supposing  the  camp  moves?" 

"I  have  my  belongings  secreted  in  a  nearby  cave 
where  they  are  as  safe  as  in  a  deposit  vault  of  a 
bank." 

"Well,  Vorlange,  what  am  I  to  do  now  I  am  out 
here?" 

"Remain  in  Arkansas  City  for  the  present  and 
take  it  easy." 


AN    IMPORTANT    CONVERSATION  11$ 

"You  promised  me  a  hundred  dollars  on  my 
arrival." 

"And  there  it  is." 

There  was  the  rustle  of  bank  notes. 

"New  money,  eh?"  was  Dike  Powell's  comment. 
"Been  printing  some  out  here?" 

"Not  much.  I  know  better  than  to  go  into  the 
counterfeiting  business." 

Dick  clutched  Rasco's  arm.  The  youth's  face  was 
full  of  concern. 

"My  father's  money  was  in  new  bills,"  he  whis 
pered  into  his  companion's  ear.  Rasco  nodded,  but 
quickly  motioned  for  silence. 

"I  reckon  this  is  drinks  on  me,"  said  Powell,  aris 
ing.  "Come  down  to  the  bar  before  you  go  back  to 
the  cavalry  camp." 

"I'm  in  a  hurry,  Powell,  but  I'll  take  one  glass," 
concluded  Louis  Vorlange,  and  the  two  men  hurried 
from  the  reading-room. 

"He  is  the  man — I  feel  certain  of  it !"  burst  from 
Dick's  lips,  when  he  felt  safe  to  speak.  "Rasco, 

there  is  some  mystery  here.  My  father "  He 

stopped  short  and  bit  his  lip. 

"I  know  wot's  in  yer  mind,  Dick.  I've  heard  yer 
father  go  on  in  his  sleep,  and  war  talkin'  ter  Pawnee 
Brown  about  it.  An'  Pawnee  knows  this  air  Vor- 


Il6  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

lange.  The  two  air  enemies  from  school  days.  Paw 
nee  said  Vorlange  wasn't  squar  nohow!" 

"He  is  evidently  in  the  employ  of  the  govern 
ment." 

"Yes;  a  land-office  spy,  now  workin'  ag'in  the 
boomers  fer  the  cavalry  as  intends  ter  keep  us  out 
of  Oklahoma." 

"It  will  be  hard  to  bring  such  a  man  to  justice, 
without  some  direct  evidence  against  him,  Rasco." 

"Don't  yer  try  ter  do  it — yet,  lad.  Take  my  ad 
vice  an'  watch  him.  An'  afore  yer  come  down  on 
him  yer  hed  better  question  yer  father  about  Vor- 
lange." 

At  this  Dick  winced. 

"Rasco,  my  father's  manner  is  against  him — I 
know  that.  But  I'm  certain  he  never  committed  a 
crime  in  his  life." 

"I  believes  yer,  Dick.  Yer  father's  a  gentleman, 
every  inch  o'  him ;  I  seed  thet  the  fust  I  clapped  eyes 
on  him.  But  knowin'  the  truth  is  one  thing  an' 
provin'  it  is  another,  especially  in  the  wild  west. 
This  air  Vorlange  may  hev  yer  father  in  a  mighty 
tight  hole,  and  if  you  show  him  up  as  the  thief  who 
stole  the  deeds  an'  the  money,  he  may  turn  on  yer 
dad  and  squeeze  him  mightily,  see?" 

"I  see.    But  what  shall  I  do  just  now?" 


AN   IMPORTANT  CONVERSATION 


"Follow  Vorlange  and  spy  on  to  him  all  yer  can. 
It  ain't  no  ust  ter  hurry  matters,  with  your  father 
flat  on  his  back.  Powell  will  remain  here  and  Vor 
lange  will  be  with  the  cavalry,  so  yer  will  know 
whar  ter  clap  eyes  on  ter  both  of  'em  if  it's  neces 
sary." 

A  moment's  reflection  convinced  Dick  that  this 
was  sound  advice,  and  he  said  he  would  follow  it, 
mentally  resolved  not  to  accuse  Vorlange  of  any 
thing  until  he  had  gotten  his  parent  to  confess  to 
the  true  state  of  affairs. 

By  this  time  the  boy  and  the  man  of  the  plains 
had  left  the  veranda  and  walked  around  to  where 
Rasco  had  left  his  horse.  A  moment  later  they  saw 
Louis  Vorlange  hurry  from  the  barroom  of  the  hotel, 
leap  upon  his  own  animal,  and  strike  out  of  town  in 
a  westerly  direction. 

"If  I  had  a  horse  I'd  follow  him,"  began  Dick, 
when  Rasco  motioned  the  youth  to  hop  up  behind. 
Soon  they  were  riding  after  Vorlange,  but  not  close 
enough  to  allow  the  spy  to  imagine  that  he  was 
being  followed. 

"If  you  go  after  him  you'll  get  no  chance  to  hunt 
up  your  niece,"  began  Dick,  when  the  city  was  left 
behind. 

"That's    true,    lad."      Jack    Rasco's    face    grew 


Il8  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

troubled.  "I  don't  know  wot's  best  ter  do.  It  ain't 
fair  ter  let  yer  follow  Vorlange  alone ;  an'  with  only 

one  boss hullo,  wot  does  this  mean?  Carl  Hum- 

pendinck,  an'  wavin'  his  hand  to  us  like  he  war 
crazy." 

Rasco  had  discovered  the  German  boomer  sweep 
ing  up  a  side  trail.  Humpendinck  had  made  out 
Rasco  but  a  second  before  and  now  shouted  for  the 
man  of  the  plains  to  halt. 

"What  is  it,  Dutchy?"  called  out  Rasco,  when 
they  were  within  speaking  distance. 

"Vot  ist  it?  Donner  und  blitzen,  Rasco,  it  vos  der 
vorst  news  vot  efer  you  heard !"  burst  from  Carl 
Humpendinck's  lips.  "I  chust  here  him  apout 
quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  und  I  ride  der  horse's  legs 
off  ter  told  yer." 

"But  what  is  it— out  with  it?" 

"It's  apout  clot  girl  you  vos  lookin'  for.  Rosy  De- 
laney,  dot  Irish  vomans  vot  haf  such  a  long  tongue 
got,  she  tole  me  der  sthory.  Gott  im  himmel !  it  vos 
dreadful !" 

"But  tell  me  what  it  is,  Dutchy!"  exploded  Rasco. 
"Wot  is  dreadful?" 

"Der  sthory  she  tole — I  can's  most  believe  him." 

"See  here,  out  with  the  whole  thing,  or  I'll  swat 
yer  one  on  the  cocoanut,  Humpendinck!"  roared 


AN   IMPORTANT   CONVERSATION 

Rasco.  "Yer  as  long-winded  ez  a  mule  thet's  gone 
blind." 

"Gracious,  Rasco,  you  vouldn't  hit  me,  afther  I 
ride  me  dree  miles  und  more  ter  tole  you?''  wailed 
the  German,  reproachfully.  "I  dink  me  you  vos 
mine  pest  friend,  next  to  Pawnee  Prown,  ain't  it?" 

"There'll  be  a  dead  Dutchman  here  in  another 
minute  if  yer  don't  open  up  clear  down  ter  the  bot 
tom  !"  howled  Rasco,  who  had  never  before  suffered 
such  exasperation. 

"Tell  us -the  exact  trouble,"  put  in  Dick,  calmly. 
He  saw  that  exciting  Humpendinck  still  more  would 
do  np  good. 

"Der  Indian  haf  carried  dot  girl  avay !"  exploded 
Humpendinck. 

"Carried  the  girl  away!"  ejaculated  Dick. 

"My  Nellie?"  yelled  Rasco. 

"Dot's  it,  Rasco.  Ain't  it  awful!  Dot  Irish 
vomans  seen  dot  Indian  mit  dot  girl  in  his  arms, 
flying  der  trail  ofer  like  a  biece  of  bab'er  pefore  a 
cyclone  alretty!" 

"Humpendinck,  are  you  telling  the  truth?" 

"I  vos  tole  you  vot  dot  Irish  vomans  tole  me. 
Mike  Delaney  und  dree  udder  mans  vos  lookin'  for 
you." 

On  the  instant  Louis  Vorlange  was  forgotten,  not 


I2O  THE   BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

only  by  Rasco,  bait  also  by  Dick.  It  made  both 
shudder  to  think  that  Nellie  had  been  carried  off  by 
a  redskin.  They  turned  into  the  trail  from  which 
Humpendinck  had  emerged,  and  were  soon  on  their 
way  to  the  camp. 

Here  Rosy  Delaney  was  found  very  much  dis 
turbed.  She  came  up  to  Rasco  wringing  her  hands. 

"To  think  o'  the  red  rascal  a-takin'  thet  young 
leddy  off!"  she  cried.  "I  know  her  by  thet  photy- 
graph !  Och,  the  villain !  An'  it  moight  have  been 
Rosy  Delaney,  bad  cess  to  him !" 

"Show  me  the  exact  trail  he  followed,"  said  Rasco, 
and  this  the  Irish  woman  did  willingly.  Soon  Rasco 
was  tearing  over  the  prairie,  followed  by  Humpen 
dinck,  Delaney,  Clemmer  and  by  Dick,  who  bor 
rowed  a  horse  from  another  boomer. 

The  trail  left  by  Yellow  Elk  was  easily  followed 
to  the  vicinity  of  Honnewell,  but  here  it  led  away  to 
the  southwest  and  was  swallowed  up  among  the 
bushes  and  rocks  leading  down  into  the  ravine  pre 
viously  mentioned. 

"Oi  reckon  thot's  the  trail,"  said  Delaney,  after 
an  examination. 

"And  I  vos  dink  dot  ist  der  trail,"  put  in  Hum 
pendinck. 

"An'  I  calkerlate  this  is  the  trail,"  added  Cal 
Clemmer. 


AN   IMPORTANT  CONVERSATION  121 

Each  pointed  in  a  different  direction,  while  Rasco 
and  Dick  were  of  the  opinion  that  none  of  them 
were  right  and  that  the  trail  led  up  the  ravine,  just 
as  it  really  did. 

An  interruption  now  occurred.  There  was  a  stir 
in  the  bushes  above  their  heads,  and  an  elderly  scout 
peered  down  upon  them,  rifle  in  hand. 

"Hullo,  Jack  Rasco,  wot's  the  best  word?  Whar 
is  Pawnee  Brown?" 

"Dan  Gilbert!"  cried  Rasco.    "Come  down 
Pawnee  ought  to  be  somewhere  about  here." 

In  a  moment  more  Dan  Gilbert,  a  heavy-set, 
pleasant-looking  frontiersman,  stood  among  them. 
A  hasty  consultation  immediately  followed.  Dan 
Gilbert  was  on  his  way  back  to  where  he  had  left 
the  blaze  on  the  tree,  and  it  was  decided  that  Rasco 
and  Dick  should  accompany  him,  while  Clemmer, 
Delaney  and  Humpendinck  went  to  reconnoitre  in 
the  opposite  direction.  A  double  pistol  shot  from 
either  party  was  to  bring  the  other  to  its  aid. 

In  less  than  five  minutes  the  first  party  was  on 
its  way  to  the  blazed  tree.  Dan  Gilbert  feeling  cer 
tain  that  if  Pawnee  Brown  had  passed  that  way  he 
must  have  seen  the  sign  and  left  word  of  his  own. 

"If  Pawnee  was  down  here  you  can  bet  he  spotted 
that  Injun  if  he  came  within  a  hundred  yards  of 


122  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

him,"  said  Gilbert.  "He  can  smell  a  red  like  a  cat 
can  smell  a  rat." 

The  tree  reached,  the  frontiersman  threw  back  the 
flat  rock  and  brought  forth  the  message  left  by  the 
great  scout.  He  read  it  aloud. 

"Following  Yellow  Elk!"  cried  Jack  Rasco.  "I 
know  the  rascal!  And  it  was  he  as  stole  my  gal! 
Jess  wait  till  I  git  my  hand  on  his  windpipe,  thet's 
all !  Whar's  thet  cave,  Gilbert  T 

"I  don't  know,  but  it  must  be  somewhere  up  the 
ravine.  Come  on." 

And  away  went  the  trio,  on  the  hunt  for  Yellow 
Elk,  Pawnee  Brown  and  poor  Nellie  Winthrop. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ATTACKED  BY  A  WILDCAT. 

"You  fiend !" 

This  was  all  Pawnee  Brown  could  say,  as  with  a 
face  full  of  bitter  hatred  Yellow  Elk  advanced  and 
applied  the  torch  to  the  dry  brush  which  encircled  his 
feet. 

In  vain  the  great  scout  endeavored  to  wrench  him 
self  free  from  the  fire-stake.  Yellow  Elk  and  his 
followers  had  done  their  work  well  and  he  was  held 
as  in  a  vise. 

"Pawnee  Brown  shall  burn  slowly/'  said  theJEndian 
chief,  hoping  to  make  the  scout  show  the  white  feather. 
"Yellow  Elk  will  watch  that  the  fire  does  not  mount 
to  his  body  too  quickly." 

"If  you  want  to  kill  me  why  don't  you  put  a  bullet 
through  my  heart  and  have  done  with  it,"  said  the 
boomer  as  coolly  as  he  could.  The  fire  was  now  burn 
ing  around  his  feet  and  ankles  and  the  pain  was  in 
creasing  with  every  second  of  time. 

"White  man  shall  learn  what  it  is  to  suffer,"  said 
Spotted  Nose,  "He  killed  my  friend,  the  Little  Mule/' 

(123) 


124  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

"Your  friend  tried  to  take  my  life." 

"Bah!  say  no  more  but  burn!  burn!"  hissed  Yel 
low  Elk. 

And  with  a  stick  he  shoved  the  flaming  brush  closer 
in  around  the  scout's  legs. 

It  was  a  fearful  moment — a  moment  in  which  Paw 
nee  Brown's  life  hung  by  a  single  thread.  The  flames 
were  leaping  up  all  around  him.  He  closed  his  eyes 
and  half  murmured  a  prayer  for  divine  aid. 

Crack!  bang!  crack!  Two  pistol  shots  and  the 
report  of  a  rifle  echoed  throughout  the  cave,  and  as 
Pawnee  Brown  opened  his  eyes  in  astonishment  Spot 
ted  Nose  threw  up  his  arms  and  fell  forward  in  the 
flames  at  his  feet,  dead!  The  Indian  who  had  been 
with  Spotted  Nose  also  went  down,  mortally  wounded, 
while  Yellow  Elk  was  hit  in  the  left  arm. 

"Down  with  the  reds!  came  in  the  ringing  voice 
of  Jack  Rasco,  and  he  appeared  from  out  of  a  cloud  of 
smoke,  closely  followed  by  Dan  Gilbert  and  Dick. 
"Pawnee !  Am  I  in  time  ?  I  hope  ter  Heaven  I  am !" 

"Jack!"  cried  the  great  scout.  A  slash  of  Rasco's 
hunting  knife  and  he  was  free.  "Good  for  you !"  and 
then  Pawnee  Brown  had  his  hands  full  for  several 
minutes  beating  out  the  flames  which  had  ignited  his 
boot  soles  and  the  bottoms  of  his  trousers. 

"We  plugged  the  three  of  'em,"  said  Gilbert.     "I 


ATTACKED  BY  A  WILDCAT  125 

knocked  thet  one,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  Indian  who 
was  breathing  his  last. 

"I  hit  the  Indian  with  the  yellow  plume,"  put  in 
Dick,  and  he  could  not  help  but  shudder. 

"That  was  Yellow  Elk,"  said  Rasco.  "But  whar  is 
he  now?" 

All  the  white  men  turned  quickly,  looking  up  and 
down  the  cave.  It  was  useless.  Yellow  Elk  had  dis 
appeared. 

"He  must  not  escape!"  cried  Pawnee  Brown.  "I 
have  an  account  to  settle  with  him  for  starting  that 
fire." 

"But  whar  is  Nellie?"  asked  Rasco,  impatiently, 
looking  around  with  a  falling  face. 

"She  ran  away  when  the  other  Indians  came  to  Yel 
low  Elk's  assistance,"  answered  Pawnee  Brown,  and 
in  a  few  hurried  words  he  told  his  story. 

"Then  she  can't  be  far  off." 

"Let  us  hunt  for  her  at  once,"  cried  Dick,  and  his 
enthusiasm  made  the  men  laugh,  at  which  the  boy 
blushed  furiously. 

"Never  mind,  Dick,  yer  don't  think  no  more  of  her 
nor  I  do,"  said  Rasco.  "Which  way,  Pawnee?" 

"This  way,  boys."  The  scout  turned  to  the  Indian 
who  had  been  wounded.  "Dead  as  a  door  nail.  Pity 
it  wasn't  Yellow  Elk." 


126  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

"So  say  I,"  answered  Rasco.     "But  we'll  git  him 

yet,  mark  my  words]" 

With  all  possible  speed  they  ran  out  of  the  cave  and 
to  the  spot  where  they  had  left  their  horses.  Here  a 
disagreeable  surprise  awaited  them.  Every  animal 
was  gone,  including  the  one  Pawnee  Brown  had  rid 
den. 

"More  of  Yellow  Elk's  work!"  muttered  the 
boomer.  "I'll  tell  you,  men,  that  red  is  a  corker,  and 
as  a  dead  Indian  he  couldn't  be  beat." 

"I  declar'  this  most  stumps  me!"  growled  Dan  Gil 
bert.  "Here's  the  trail  plain  enough,  but  it's  all  out 
of  the  question  ter  follow  on  shank's  own  mare." 

"Let  us  hunt  up  Clemmer  and  the  others,"  suggested 
Jack  Rasco. 

"We  must  be  cautious — the  cavalry  may  be  some 
where  in  the  vicinity,"  added  Pawnee  Brown.  "How 
the  redskins  escaped  them  is  a  mystery  to  me." 

"They  are  evidently  as  sly  as  their  forefathers," 
said  Dick.  "But,  really,  something  ought  to  be  done. 
If  we — hullo,  there's  a  horse  down  in  yonder  clear- 
ing!" 

"Bonnie  Bird!"  shouted  Pawnee  Brown,  in  great 
delight.  It  was  indeed  the  beautiful  mare.  A 
second  cry  and  the  steed  came  bounding  up  to  her 
master. 


ATTACKED  BY  A   WILDCAT  127 

"Now  I  can  follow  even  if  the  others  can't,"  said 
the  scout.  "Rasco,  it's  a  pity  you  haven't  a  mount.  It 
is  no  more  than  right  that  you  should  follow  up  your 
niece.  If  you  insist  upon  it  I'll  let  you  have  Bonnie 
Bird.  I  wonder  if  Nellie  or  the  redskin  had  her?" 

"I  won't  take  yer  horse,  Pawnee — it's  askin'  too 
much,"  answered  Rasco.  "Supposin'  we  both  mount 
her?  If  Bonnie  Bird  got  away  from  Yellow  Elk  it's 
more'n  likely  one  of  the  other  hosses  got  away,  too." 
That's  so.  Well,  get  up,  Jack,  and  let  us  lose  no 
time." 

Soon  both  men  were  mounted.  A  few  words  all 
around  followed,  and  it  was  agreed  that  Dick  and  Gil 
bert  should  try  to  hunt  up  Clemmer  and  the  others,  and 
then  away  went  Pawnee  Brown  and  Rasco  upon  Yel 
low  Elk's  trail. 

Sudden  Jack  Rasco  uttered  a  cry. 

"See,  Pawnee,  here's  whar  another  of  the  hosses 
got  away.  Hang  me  if  I  don't  think  it  war  my  hoss, 
too!" 

"Yes,  and  here  is  where  the  horse  dropped  into  a 
walk,"  he  answered,  "I  don't  believe  he  can  be  far 
off." 

Without  delay  Rasco  slid  to  the  ground. 

"I'll  follow  him  up  afoot,"  he  declared.    "I'm  fresh 


128  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

and  can  run  it  putty  good.  You  go  ahead  with  the 
regular  trail." 

The  trail  left  by  Yellow  Elk  ran  down  along  the 
edge  of  the  stream  for  a  distance  of  perhaps  a  hundred 
yards,  then  it  came  out  on  a  series  of  flat  rocks  and 
was  lost  to  view. 

Pawnee  Brown  came  to  a  halt.  Had  Yellow  Elk 
crossed  the  stream,  or  doubled  on  the  trail  and  gone 
back? 

Dismounting,  he  got  down  upon  his  hands  and 
knees  and  examined  the  last  hoofprints  with  extreme 
care. 

The  examination  lasted  for  fully  ten  minutes.  No 
white  man  could  follow  a  trail  better  than  this  leader 
of  the  boomers,  yet  for  the  time  being  he  was  baffled. 

Yellow  Elk  had  led  the  horses  into  the  water,  but 
the  trail  did  not  extend  across  the  stream. 

"He's  an  artful  dodger!"  mused  Pawnee  Brown, 
when  of  a  sudden  he  became  silent. 

A  faint  scratching,  as  of  tree  bark,  had  come  to  his 
ears.  The  noise  was  but  a  short  distance  away. 

"Some  animal,"  he  thought.  "No  human  being 
would  make  such  a  sound  as  that." 

Another  ten  seconds  of  painful  silence  followed. 
The  scratching  sound  had  just  been  resumed  when 
Bonnie  Bird  wheeled  about  as  if  on  a  pivot. 


ATTACKED   BY  A   WILDCAT 

"Ha!" 

The  exclamation  came  from  between  Pawnee 
Brown's  set  teeth.  There,  from  between  the  branches 
of  a  tree  just  in  front  of  him,  glared  a  pair  of  yellow 
ish-green  eyes. 

The  blazing  optics  belonged  to  a  monstrous  wildcat ! 

As  quick  as  a  flash  Pawnee  Brown  raised  his  pistol 
and  pulled  the  trigger. 

Crack!  The  wildcat  was  hit  in  the  side.  The  shot 
was  a  glancing  one  and  did  but  little  damage. 

Whirr!  down  came  the  body  straight  for  the 
boomer,  landing  half  upon  his  shoulder  and  half  upon 
Bonnie  Bird's  mane. 

The  little  mare  was  thoroughly  frightened,  and  giv 
ing  a  snort  and  a  plunge  she  threw  both  rider  and 
wildcat  to  the  ground. 

As  Pawnee  Brown  went  down  he  tried  to  push  the 
monstrous  cat  from  him,  but  the  beast  had  its  claws 
fastened  in  the  scout's  clothing  and  could  not  be 
shook  off. 

Crack !  Again  Pawnee  Brown  fired.  The  flash  was 
almost  directly  in  the  wildcat's  face,  and  shot  in  the 
left  forepaw  the  beast  uttered  a  fearful  howl  of  pain 
and  dropped  back. 

But  only  for  an  instant.  The  pain  only  increased  its 
anger,  and  with  gleaming  teeth  it  crouched  down  and 


I3O  THE    BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

made  another  spring,  right  for  the  boomer's  throat. 

Crack !  crack !  twice  again  the  pistol  rang  out.  But 
the  big  cat  was  now  wary  and  both  shots  failed  to 
take  effect. 

The  pistol  being  now  empty,  Pawnee  Brown  hurled 
it  at  the  enraged  beast,  striking  it  in  the  nose  and 
eliciting  another  scream  of  rage. 

Then,  as  the  wildcat  came  on  for  a  final  attack,  the 
scout  pulled  out  his  hunting  knife. 

As  the  wildcat  came  down  the  hand  holding  the 
hunting  knife  was  raised,  with  the  blade  of  the  knife 
pointing  upward. 

A  lightning-like  swing  and  a  thrust,  and  for  one 
brief  instant  the  wildcat  was  poised  in  the  air,  upon 
the  very  blade  of  the  long  knife. 

The  blow  had  been  a  true  one,  the  knife  point  reach 
ing  the  beast's  heart,  and  when  the  animal  fell  it  rolled 
down  among  the  leaves,  dead. 

"By  thunder !  but  that  was  something  I  hadn't  bar 
gained  for!"  murmured  the  great  scout,  as  he  sur 
veyed  the  carcass.  "That's  about  the  biggest  wildcat 
I  ever  saw.  It's  a  good  thing  I  didn't  meet  him  in 
the  dark." 

Wiping  off  his  hunting  knife,  he  restored  it  to  his 
belt.  Then  he  picked  up  his  pistol  and  started  to  re- 


ATTACKED  BY  A   WILDCAT  13! 

load  it,  at  the  same  time  whistling  for  Bonnie  Bird, 
who,  he  felt  sure,  must  be  close  by. 

As  Pawnee  Brown  stood  reloading  the  pistol  and 
whistling  for  his  mare  he  did  not  notice  a  shadow  be 
hind  him.  Slowly  but  surely  someone  was  drawing 
closer  to  him.  It  was  Yellow  Elk. 

The  Indian  chief  was  on  foot.  In  his  left  hand  he 
carried  a  cocked  revolver,  in  his  right  an  old-time 
tomahawk,  from  which  he  had  refused  to  be  parted 
when  placed  on  the  Indian  reservation. 

The  redskin's  face  was  full  of  the  most  bitter  ani 
mosity  it  is  possible  to  imagine.  The  glare  of  wicked 
ness  in  his  eyes  fairly  put  the  look  that  had  lived  in 
the  wildcat's  optics  to  shame.  His  snags  of  yellow 
teeth  were  firmly  set. 

He  was  resolved  to  kill  his  enemy  there  and  then. 
Pawnee  Brown  should  not  again  escape  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  MEETING  IN  THE  WOODS. 

After  leaving  Pawnee  Brown,  Jack  Rasco  fol 
lowed  the  trail  of  his  horse  through  a  small  grove  of 
trees  and  along  the  upper  bank  of  the  very  stream 
upon  which  the  great  scout  encountered  Yellow  Elk. 

"Blamed  ef  he  didn't  go  further  nor  I  expected/' 
muttered  Rasco  to  himself  as  he  trudged  along.  But 
the  hoof-prints  were  now  growing  fresher  and 
fresher,  telling  that  the  animal  could  not  be  far  off. 

The  woods  passed,  he  began  ascending  a  small 
hill.  At  the  top  of  this  was  a  level  patch,  thickly 
overgrown  with  short  brush. 

He  had  just  entered  the  brush  when  he  heard  a 
strange  sound.  He  listened  intently. 

"Thet's  a  hoss  in  pain,"  he  said  to  himself.  "Too 
bad  if  the  critter  hez  had  a  tumble  an'  broke  a  leg! 
If  that's By  gum !" 

Jack  had  stumbled  upon  a  large  opening  directly 

in  the  midst  of  the  brush.     Before  he  could  turn 

back  the  very  soil  beneath  his  feet  gave  way,  and 

over  and  over  he  rolled  down  an  incline  of  forty-five 

(132) 


THE   MEETING   IN   THE  WOODS  133 

degrees,  to  bring  up  at  last  at  the  edge  of  a  pool  of 
black  water  and  mud. 

Fortunately  he  was  not  hurt,  although  the  roll 
had  dazed  him  and  cut  short  his  wind.  As  soon  as 
he  could  he  leaped  to  his  feet  and  gazed  around  him. 

The  horse  he  had  heard  lay  half  in  and  half  out  of 
the  mud.  Its  leg  was  caught  between  two  rocks, 
and  it  was  trying  frantically  to  free  itself.  It  was 
his  own  beast,  and  at  once  recognized  him. 

"Whoa  there!"  cried  Rasco,  and  did  all  he  could 
to  soothe  the  animal.  The  horse  appeared  to  under 
stand  that  assistance  was  at  hand,  and  became  quiet, 
while  Rasco  quickly  released  the  locked  leg  and  the 
beast  floundered  up  to  a  safe  footing. 

"Well,  we're  in  a  pocket,  'pears  ter  me,"  reflected 
the  man  of  the  plains  as  he  gazed  about  him.  On 
three  sides  the  walls  of  the  hole  were  very  nearly 
perpendicular,  on  the  fourth  the  slant  was  as  pre 
viously  stated,  but  here  the  soil  was  spongy  and 
treacherous. 

"Hang  me  ef  I'm  a-goin'  ter  stay  here  all  day," 
muttered  Rasco,  after  a  view  of  the  situation. 
"Come,  boy,  it's  up  thet  slope  or  nuthin',"  and  he 
leaped  on  the  horse's  back  and  urged  him  forward 
on  a  run. 

Twice  did  the  horse  try  to  ascend  to  the  plain 


134  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

above  and  fail.  Then  Rasco  urged  him  forward  a 
third  time.  This  time  the  beast  balked  and  away 
went  the  man  of  the  plains  over  his  head. 

Fortunately  Rasco  landed  in  a  tolerably  soft  spot, 
otherwise  his  neck  would  surely  have  been  broken. 
As  it  was,  his  head  struck  the  root  of  a  fallen  tree, 
which  had  once  stood  upon  the  edge  of  the  hole,  and 
he  rolled  back  near  the  pool  all  but  senseless. 

It  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  before  he  felt 
like  stirring  again. 

"Hang  the  hoss!"  he  murmured  half  aloud,  yet, 
all  told,  he  did  not  blame  the  animal  so  much  for 
balking.  "Couldn't  do  it,  eh,  boy?"  he  said,  and 
the  beast  shook  his  mane  knowingly. 

"Git  along  alone,  then !"  went  on  Rasco,  and 
struck  the  horse  on  the  flank. 

Away  went  the  steed,  and  this  time  the  top  of 
the  hole  was  gained  without  much  difficulty. 

"Now  you're  out,  how  am  I  ter  make  it?" 

It  was  easy  to  ask  this  question,  but  not  so  easy 
to  answer  it.  Rasco  tried  to  run  up  the  spongy  in 
cline  and  sank  to  his  knees. 

"Ain't  no  use;  I'll  try  a  new  game,"  he  growled. 

Fortunately,  Rasco  was  in  the  habit  of  carrying, 
in  cowboy  fashion,  a  lariat  suspended  from  his  belt. 
This  he  now  unwound  and  with  a  dextrous  throw 


THE    MEETING   IN    THE   WOODS  135 

caught  the  outer  loop  over  a  sturdy  bush  growing 
over  one  of  the  perpendicular  sides  of  the  opening. 

Testing  the  lariat,  to  make  certain  it  was  firm, 
he  began  to  ascend  hand  over  hand.  This  was  no 
light  task,  yet  it  was  speedily  accomplished,  and 
with  a  sigh  of  relief  he  found  himself  safe  once 
more. 

But  in  the  meantime  the  horse  had  trotted  off, 
alarmecf  by  a  black  snake  in  the  long  grass.  Rasco 
saw  this  snake  a  minute  later,  but  the  reptile  slunk 
out  of  sight  before  he  could  get  a  chance  to  dis 
patch  it. 

The  trail  of  the  horse  led  again  back  to  the 
ravine,  but  not  in  the  direction  of  the  cave.  Bound 
to  secure  the  animal  before  rejoining  Pawnee 
Brown,  Rasco  loped  along  in  pursuit. 

He  was  in  the  ravine,  and  had  just  caught  sight 
of  his  steed  once  more,  when  he  heard  several  pistol 
shots  coming  from  a  distance.  These  were  the  shots 
fired  by  Pawnee  Brown  at  the  wildcat.  He  listened 
intently,  but  no  more  shots  followed,  and  being 
below  the  level  of  the  surrounding  country,  he  was 
unable  to  locate  the  discharge  of  firearms. 

"Something  is  wrong  somewhar,"  he  mused.  "Can 
thet  be  Pawnee  shootin',  or  is  it  Dick  an'  the 
others?" 


136  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

He  secured  the  horse  and  began  to  ascend  out  of 
the  ravine,  when  a  murmur  of  voices  broke  upon 
his  ears.  One  of  the  voices  sounded  familiar  and  he 
soon  recognized  it  as  that  of  Louis  Vorlange. 

Instantly  dismounting,  he  tied  his  animal  fast  to 
a  tree  that  the  creature  might  not  wander  away 
again,  and  worked  his  way  noiselessly  through  the 
brush.  The  voices  came  from  a  nearby  clearing, 
and  approaching,  Rasco  saw  on  horseback  Louis 
Vorlange  and  half  a  dozen  cavalrymen,  among  them 
Tucker,  Ross  and  Skimmy,  the  trio  who  had  sought 
to  detain  Dick  as  a  horse  thief. 

"I  feel  certain  they  will  come  this  way,"  one  of 
the  strange  troopers  was  saying.  "I  saw  at  least 
two  boomer  spies  along  yonder  ravine.'* 

"They  will  come  to  Honnewell,"  answered  Vor 
lange.  "It  may  be  that  instead  of  making  a  rush 
they  will  try  to  sneak  in  during  the  night,  one  at  a 
time." 

"We'll  be  ready  for  'em,"  muttered  Tucker.  "I 
know  my  meat,"  he  added,  significantly,  to  Vor 
lange,  meaning  that  he  had  not  forgotten  the  reward 
offered  if,  in  a  battle  he  should  lay  Pawnee  Brown 
and  Dick  low.  At  the  words  Vorlange  nodded. 

'"When  will  the  reinforcements  be  up  this  way. 
asked  Ross. 


THE   MEETING   IN   THE   WOODS  137 

"I  have  already  sent  word  to  headquarters,"  an 
swered  Vorlange.  'The  lieutenant  is  sure  to  re 
spond  without  delay." 

"Do  you  reckon  the  boomers  know  we  are  on 
hand  to  stop  them?"  questioned  Skimmy. 

"They  know  nothing,"  answered  Vorlange.  "If 
Pawnee  Brown  leads  his  men  in  this  direction  they 
will  fall  directly  into  a  trap — if  the  lieutenant  does 
as  I  have  advised,  and  I  think  he  will." 

"I  hope  the  boomers  start  to  fight  and  give  us  a 
chance  to  wipe  'em  out,"  muttered  Ross. 

"There  will  be  a  fight  started,  don't  you  fear/' 
answered  Vorlange. 

The  spy  meant  what  he  said.  Too  cowardly  to  meet 
Pawnee  Brown  face  to  face,  he  wanted  to  make  sure 
that  the  great  scout  should  be  killed. 

This  would  happen  if  a  battle  .came  off,  for  he  felt 
sure  Tucker  would  do  exactly  as  he  promised. 

Vorlange  had  determined  to  be  on  hand.  Secreted 
in  a  tree  or  elsewhere  he  could  fire  a  dozen  shots  or  so 
into  the  air,  and  this  would  arouse  both  cavalrymen 
and  boomers  to  think  that  actual  hostilities  had  al 
ready  started,  and  then  neither  side  would  longer  hold 
off. 

"When  will  the  boomers  move?"  was  one  of  the 
cavalrymen's  questions. 


138  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

"They  are  waiting  for  Pawnee  Brown/'  said  the  spy. 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Somewhere  about  the  country." 

"Can  he  be  up  here?" 

Vorlange  started. 

"I — I  think  not. 

"He's  a  slick  one,  Vorlange ;  remember  that." 

"I  know  it,  but  some  men  are  slicker.  Wait  until 
this  boom  is  busted  and  you'll  never  hear  of  Pawnee 
Brown  again." 

So  the  talk  ran  on.  Rasco  listened  with  much  inter 
est,  forgetting  the  fact  that  he  had  promised  to  follow 
Pawnee  Brown  as  soon  as  the  stray-away  horse  was 
secured. 

What  he  had  heard  surprised  him  greatly. 

Many  of  the  plans  of  the  boomers,  made  in  such 
secrecy,  were  known  to  the  government  authorities. 
The  plan  to  move  westward  to  Honnewell  was  known, 
and  a  passage  through  to  Oklahoma  from  that  direc 
tion  was,  consequently,  out  of  the  question. 

"The  boys  must  know  of  this,"  thought  Rasco.  "I 
must  tell  Clemmer  and  Gilbert  before  I  try  to  hunt  up 
Pawnee  again,  or  go  after  Nellie.  If  there  was  a  fight 
as  Vorlange  seems  to  think,  there  might  be  a  hundred 
or  more  killed." 


THE    MEETING    IN    THE    WOODS  139 

Having  overheard  all  that  he  deemed  necessary,  the 
man  of  the  plains  started  to  retreat. 

He  had  taken  but  a  few  steps  when  he  found  him 
self  cut  off  from  his  horse. 

Three  additional  cavalrymen  were  approaching  from 
the  thicket. 

"Here's  a  horse  tied  up !"  cried  one.  "Boys,  whose 
animal  is  this  ?" 

The  call  instantly  attracted  the  attention  of  Vorlange 
and  his  companions.  They  turned  toward  the  speaker, 
and  now  there  remained  nothing  for  Rasco  to  do  but 
to  run  for  it,  and  this  he  did  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

As  long  as  he  could  he  kept  out  of  sight  behind  the 
bushes.  But  soon  Tucker  caught  sight  of  him. 

"Halt,  or  I'll  fire!"  came  the  command. 

Tucker  spoke  first,  and  several  others  followed.  As 
Rasco  was  now  in  plain  view,  and  as  each  of  the  enemy 
had  a  firearm  of  some  sort  aimed  at  him,  it  would  have 
been  foolishness  to  have  thus  courted  death,  and  the 
man  of  the  plains  halted. 

"It  is  Jack  Rasco !"  cried  Vorlange.  "Boys,  this  is 
Pawnee  Brown's  right-hand  man !" 

"I  know  him!"  growled  Tucker.  "Rasco,  you're  in 
a  box  now  and  don't  you  forget  it.  You've  been  spy 
ing  on  us." 

"Make  him  a  prisoner,"  said  another  of  the  cavalry- 


I4O  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

men,  an  under  officer.  "If  he  is  a  spy  we'll  have  to 
take  him  back  to  the  fort  and  turn  him  over  to  the 
captain." 

A  minute  later  Jack  Rasco  found  himself  a  close 
prisoner.  It  was  destined  to  be  some  time  ere  he  again 
obtained  his  liberty.  Thus  were  his  chances  of  helping 
Pawnee  Brown  cut  off. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  CRY  FROM  THE  DARKNESS, 

Let  us  return  to  Pawnee  Brown,  who,  totally  uncon 
scious  of  the  fact  that  Yellow  Elk  was  creeping  up 
behind  him,  stood  beside  the  body  of  the  dead  wildcat, 
re-loading  the  empty  revolver. 

One  of  the  chambers  of  the  firearm  had  been  loaded, 
when  something  about  the  pistol  caused  the  great 
scout  to  examine  it  more  closely.  As  he  was  doing 
this  Yellow  Elk  advanced  to  within  three  feet  of  him 
and  raised  the  tomahawk  for  the  fatal  blow. 

At  this  terrible  moment  it  must  surely  have  been 
Providence  which  interfered  in  the  boomer's  behalf, 
for,  totally  unconscious  of  his  peril,  he  would  have 
done  absolutely  nothing  to  save  himself.  He  bent  over 
the  pistol  more  closely. 

'That  trigger  seems  to  catch,"  he  thought,  and  threw 
the  weapon  up  and  fired  it  over  his  shoulder,  just  to 
test  it. 

The  bullet  did  not  pass  within  a  yard  of  Yellow 
Elk,  but  the  movement  came  so  unexpectedly  that  the 
Indian  chief  was  taken  completely  off  his  guard  and 

(141) 


142  THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

dropped  back  as  though  actually  shot.  His  cry  of 
astonishment  and  fear  lasted  longer  than  did  the  pistol 
report,  and  Pawnee  Brown  swung  around  to  confront 
him. 

"Yellow  Elk !"  came  from  his  lips,  when  whizz !  the 
tomahawk  left  the  redskin's  hand  and  came  swirling 
through  the  air  directly  for  his  head.  He  dropped 
like  lightning,  and  the  keen  blade  sank  deeply  into  the 
tree  behind  him. 

"Wough !"  grunted  the  Indian  when  he  saw  how  he 
had  missed  his  mark.  Then  he  levelled  the  pistol  in 
his  left  hand  at  Pawnee  Brown's  head. 

The  great  scout  felt  his  position  was  still  a  trying 
one.  His  own  shooter,  though  still  in  hand,  was 
empty.  He  pointed  it  and  started  to  back  away  to  the 
tree  behind  him. 

"Stop,  or  I  kill !'  commanded  Yellow  Elk,  but  in 
stead  of  complying,  the  scout  took  a  flying  leap  to  a 
safe  shelter.  Seeing  this,  Yellow  Elk  also  lost  no  time 
in  getting  behind  cover. 

With  the  pistol  loaded  once  more  the  boomer  felt 
safer.  He  listened  intently  for  some  movement  upon 
the  part  of  his  enemy,  but  none  came.  The  Indian  Is 
a  great  hand  at  playing  a  waiting  game  and  Yellow 
Elk  was  no  exception  to  this  rule. 

"Well,  if  you  can  wait,  so  can  I,"  thought  Pawnee 


A  CRY  FROM  THE  DARKNESS  143 

Brown  and  settled  down  with  eyes  and  ears  on  the 
alert.  He  thought  of  Nellie  Winthrop  and  of  Rasco, 
and  wondered  what  had  become  of  uncle  and  niece. 
He  did  not  want  to  wait,  feeling  it  was  important  to 
get  back  to  the  boomers'  camp,  but  there  was  no  help 
for  it,  and  he  remained  where  he  was. 

Fifteen  minutes  went  by  and  no  sound  broke  the 
stillness  saving  that  of  the  water  in  the  brook  as  it 
flowed  down  over  a  series  of  rocks.  Then  came  the 
faint  crack  of  a  single  dry  twig  over  upon  his  left.  He 
turned  around  and  blazed  away  in  that  direction. 

A  fierce  but  suppressed  exclamation  in  the  Indian 
tongue  followed,  showing  that  Yellow  Elk  had  been 
hit.  How  serious  the  Indian  chief  was  injured  there 
was  no  telling.  It  might  be  only  a  flesh  wound,  it 
might  have  been  fatal  and  Yellow  Elk  might  have  died 
without  further  sound,  and  then  again  it  might  be  only 
a  ruse.  Again  Pawnee  Brown  paused  to  listen. 

Thus  another  quarter  of  an  hour  was  wasted.  It 
must  be  confessed  that  the  great  scout's  nerves  were 
strung  to  the  topmost  tension.  At  any  moment  a  shot 
might  come  which  would  end  his  life.  It  was  ten  times 
more  trying  than  to  stand  up  in  line  of  battle,  for  the 
enemy  could  not  be  seen. 

Again  came  the  crack  of  a  twig,  but  very  faint, 
showing  that  the  sound  came  from  a  distance.  There 


144  THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

followed  a  faint  splash,  some  distance  up  the  stream. 
Yellow  Elk  was  retreating. 

"I  reckon  I  hit  him  pretty  bad,"  mused  Pawnee 
Brown.  "But  I'll  go  slow — it  may  be  only  a  trick/' 
and  away  he  crawled  as  silently  as  a  snail  along  the 
brook's  bank. 

Inside  of  the  next  half  hour  he  had  covered  a  terri 
tory  of  many  yards  on  both  sides  of  the  brook.  In  one 
spot  he  had  seen  several  drops  of  blood  and  the  finger 
marks  of  a  bloody  hand.  Yellow  Elk,  however,  had 
completely  disappeared. 

"He  is  gone,  and  so  is  the  trail,"  muttered  the  great 
scout  at  last.  He  spoke  the  truth.  Further  following 
of  the  Indian  chief  was  just  then  out  of  the  question. 

'There  is  one  thing  to  be  thankful  for,"  he  mused. 
"I  don't  believe  he  captured  Nellie  Winthrop  again 
after  he  left  the  cave.  I  wonder  what  has  become  of 
that  girl?" 

Bonnie  Bird  had  wandered  down  the  brook  for  a 
drink  and  instantly  returned  at  her  master's  call. 
With  something  of  a  sigh  at  not  having  finished 
matters  with  Yellow  Elk  the  boomer  leaped  once  again 
into  the  saddle  and  turned  back  in  the  direction  from 
whence  he  had  come. 

It  was  now  growing  dark,  and  the  great  scout  felt 
that  he  must  ere  long  return  to  the  boomers'  camp  and 


A  CRY   FROM   THE  DARKNESS  145 

give  the  order  necessary  to  start  the  long  wagon  train 
on  its  way  westward  to  Honnewell.  Little  did  he 
dream  of  what  the  government  spy  and  the  cavalrymen 
had  discovered  and  how  Jack  Rasco  had  been  taken 
prisoner. 

"Pawnee!" 

It  was  a  cry  from  a  patch  of  woods  to  the  north 
ward,  and  straining  his  eyes  he  saw  Cal  Clemmer  wav-' 
ing  his  sombrero  toward  him.  Scout  and  cowboy 
boomer  were  soon  together. 

"Well,  whar's  Rasco  and  the  gal?"  were  Clemmer's 
first  words. 

"Both  gone — I  don't  know  where,  Cal.  Where  are 
the  other  boys?" 

"Started  back  toward  Honnewell;  thet  is,  all  but 
Dick  Arbuckle.  He's  over  ter  yonder  spring  gittin'  a 
drink  o'  water." 

"I  am  sorry  I  failed  to  find  the  girl,"  said  Pawnee 
Brown.  "She  must  have  wandered  off  in  the  woods 
and  got  lost.  I  am  quite  certain  the  Indians  did  not 
spot  her  again." 

"And  Jack?" 

"Went  off  after  his  horse." 

"Wot  do  yer  advise  us  ter  do — stay  here?" 

"I  am  afraid  staying  here  will  do  no  good,  Cal.  I 
must  get  back  to  camp  and  start  the  wagons  up.  I 


THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

know  they  won't  move  a  step  unless  I  am  personally 
there  to  give  directions.  The  old  boomers  are  all 
afraid  of  being  fooled  by  some  trick  of  the  soldiers." 

"Thet's  so.  Wall,  if  yer  want  me  ter  stay  here  I'll 
stay — otherwise  I'll  go  back,"  concluded  Clemmer. 

Dick  now  came  up,  as  anxious  as  Clemmer  had  been 
to  know  the  news.  His  face  grew  very  sober  when  he 
heard  that  Nellie  had  not  been  found. 

"I  wish  I  knew  more  of  this  territory— I'd  go  after 
her  myself,"  he  said,  earnestly.  "I  hope  you  won't 
abandon  the  search  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  lad ;  that  is  not  my  style.  But  I  must  get 
back  to  the  camp  first  and  start  the  train  along.  I'll 
be  on  this  ground  again  by  midnight." 

"Then  why  can't  I  stay  here?    I  am  not  afraid." 

"Alone?"  ejaculated  Clemmer. 

"Yes— if  you  want  to  join  Pawnee." 

"By  gosh,  but  that  boy's  nervy  fer  a  city  chap!" 
cried  the  cowboy  boomer,  in  admiration. 

"Well,  you  know  there's  a  girl  in  this,  Cal,"  rejoined 
Pawnee  Brown,  dryly.  "And  I  reckon  she's  a  girl  well 
worth  going  through  fire  and  water  for." 

At  this  Dick  blushed. 

"I  want  to  find  out  about  Rasco,  too,"  he  hastened 
to  say.  "You  know  I  was  going  through  with  him, 


A  CRY  FROM  THE  DARKNFSS  147 

and  he  was  going  to  do  some  business  for  my  father, 
later  on." 

The  matter  was  talked  over  for  several  minutes,  and 
it  was  at  last  decided  that  Dick  should  secrete  himself 
in  a  thicket  and  stand  watch  there  or  close  by  until 
he  heard  from  Pawnee  Brown  again. 

"Be  on  your  guard,  boy,  for  enemies  may  be  thick 
here/'  were  the  boomer's  last  words  of  caution.  Don't 
uncover  to  anybody  until  you  are  positive  it  is  a 
friend." 

"And  here's  a  bite  for  yer,"  added  Clemmer,  hand 
ing  out  some  rations  he  carried  in  a  haversack.  "You'll 
get  mighty  hungry  ere  the  sun  comes  up  again." 

In  a  minute  more  the  two  horsemen  were  galloping 
away.  Dick  watched  them  until  they  were  lost  to  view, 
then  dropped  to  a  sitting  position  on  a  flat  rock  in  the 
centre  of  a  clump  of  trees. 

The  youth's  heart  beat  rather  strongly.  He  was  not 
used  to  this  sort  of  thing.  How  different  the  prairies 
and  woods  were  to  the  city  streets  and  buildings. 

"Lonesome  isn't  a  name  for  it,"  he  mused.  "Puts 
me  in  mind  of  one  vast  cemetery — a  gigantic  Green 
wood,  only  there  aren't  any  monuments.  What  is 
that?" 

There  was  a  flutter  and  a  whirl,  and  Dick  grasped 
his  pistol  tighter.  It  was  only  a  night-bird,  starting  up 
now  that  the  sun  was  beginning  to  set. 


148  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

Soon  the  woods  and  the  prairies  began  to  grow 
dark.  The  sun  was  lost  to  view  behind  tall  trees  which 
cast  shadows  of  incalculable  length.  It  grew  colder, 
too,  and  he  buttoned  his  light  coat  tightly  about  him. 

To  pass  the  time  he  began  to  eat  some  of  the  food 
left  behind  by  Clemmer.  It  was  not  particularly  appe 
tizing,  and  in  the  city  Dick  might  have  passed  it  by 
for  something  better.  But  just  then  it  tasted  "just 
boss,"  to  use  Dick's  own  words.  A  bracing  air  and 
hunger  are  the  best  sauces  in  the  world. 

An  hour  had  gone  by,  and  all  was  dark,  when  Dick 
started  up  from  a  reverie  into  which  he  had  fallen. 
What  was  that  which  had  reached  his  ears  from  a  dis 
tance?  Was  it  a  cry,  or  merely  the  moaning  of  the 
rising  wind? 

He  listened.     No,  it  was  not  the  wind — it  was  a 

cry a  girl's  voice — the  voice  of  Nellie  Winthrop ! 

"It  is  Nellie!"  came  from  his  set  lips,  and  his  face 
grew  pale.  Again  came-  the  cry,  but  this  time  more 
faintly. 

From  what  direction  had  that  cry  for  help  proceed 
ed?  In  vain  the  boy  asked  himself  that  question.  He 
was  not  used  to  a  life  in  the  open  and  the  rising  wind 
was  very  deceptive. 

"I  must  find  her!"  he  gasped,  leaping  from  the 
rocks.  "I  shan't  remain  here  while  she  is  in  trouble." 


A  CRY  FROM  THE  DARKNESS  149 

He  had  no  horse  the  men  being  unable  to  provide 
him  with  one  when  they  had  come  together,  but  for 
this  he  did  not  care.  He  was  resolved  to  aid  the  girl 
if  such  a  thing  were  possible. 

Away  he  went  over  the  prairie  at  a  rapid  gait,  in  the 
direction  from  whence  he  imagined  the  cry  had  pro 
ceeded.  Two  hundred  yards  were  covered  and  he 
came  to  a  halt  and  listened.  Not  a  sound  broke  the 
stillness,  although  he  fancied  he  heard  the  hoof-strokes 
of  a  horse  at  a  great  distance. 

Then  he  turned  in  another  direction,  and  then  an 
other.  It  was  all  to  no  purpose.  No  trace  of  the  girl 
could  be  found.  He  gave  a  groan. 

"It's  no  use;  she's  gone  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  it 
Poor  girl!" 

With  a  sinking  heart  he  set  off  to  return  to  the  spot 
from  whence  he  had  come.  He  advanced  a  dozen 
steps,  then  halted  and  stared  about  him. 

Suddenly  an  awful  truth  burst  upon  him.  He  was 
lost  among  the  brush ! 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

NELLIE  MEETS  VORLANGE. 

What  had  that  awful  cry  heard  by  Dick  meant? 

To  learn  the  particulars,  we  must  go  back  to  the  time 
when  Nellie  Winthrop  started  to  escape  from  the  cave 
in  the  cliff. 

The  heart  of  the  poor  girl  almost  stopped  beating  as 
she  saw  Pawnee  Brown  face  about,  ready  to  defend 
both  her  and  himself  from  any  enemy  who  might  ap 
pear  to  help  Yellow  Elk. 

Urged  by  the  great  scout,  she  set  off  on  a  hasty  run 
for  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 

Before  the  entrance  was  gained  she  heard  the  crack 
of  a  pistol,  but  whether  fired  by  the  boomer  or  an  In 
dian  she  could  not  tell. 

"Heaven  spare  that  brave  man!"  was  the  prayer 
which  came  to  her  almost  bloodless  lips. 

She  looked  around  in  vain  for  the  horse  spoken  of 
by  Pawnee  Brown.  Not  an  animal  was  in  sight.  Then 
she  remembered  what  the  scout  had  said  about  riding 
down  the  ravine,  and  she  set  off  on  foot. 

Not  far  from  the  mouth  of  the  cave  the  ravine 
(150) 


NELLIE  MEETS  VORLANGE  15! 

forked  into  two  branches,  the  smaller  fork  ending  at 
the  distance  of  quarter  of  a  mile  in  a  cul  de  sac,  or 
blind  pocket.  Not  knowing  she  was  making  any  mis 
take,  she  entered  this  fork  and  kept  on  running,  ex 
pecting  each  instant  to  find  Pawnee  Brown  coming 
up  behind  her. 

"Oh,  dear,  Ican't  be  right!" 

Such  was  the  cry  which  escaped  her  when  she  came 
to  a  halt,  realizing  she  could  go  no  further  in  that  di 
rection.  On  both  sides  and  in  front  arose  a  series  of 
rocks,  more  or  less  steep,  and  covered  only  with  scrub 
brush,  impossible  to  ascend. 

She  looked  behind.  No  one  was  coming.  All  about 
her  was  as  silent  as  a  tomb. 

"Perhaps  I  had  better  go  back,"  she  mused,  but  the 
thought  of  encountering  an  Indian  made  her  shiver. 
In  her  life  in  the  open  she  had  had  many  an  encounter 
with  a  wild  animal,  but  redskins  were  as  yet  almost 
new  to  her,  and  her  experience  with  the  hideous  Yel 
low  Elk  had  been  one  she  did  not  care  to  repeat. 

She  had  just  turned  to  move  back  to  the  ravine 
proper,  when  a  sound  among  the  rocks  caused  her  to 
pause.  She  looked  intently  in  the  direction,  but  could 
see  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary. 

"Hullo,  there,  miss;  what  are  you  doing  away  out 
here?" 


152  THE   BOY    LAND    BOOMER. 

The  cry  came  from  the  rocks  on  her  right.  Turning 
swiftly,  she  saw  an  evil-looking  man  scowling  down 
upon  her  from  a  small  opening  under  one  of  the  rocky 
walls  of  the  cul  de  sac.  The  man  was  Louis  Vorlange. 

Nellie  did  not  know  the  fellow ;  indeed  she  had  never 
heard  of  him.  But  there  was  that  in  the  spy's  manner 
which  was  not  at  all  reassuring  as  he  leaped  down  to 
where  she  stood. 

"I  say,  how  did  you  come  here  ?"  went  on  Vorlange. 

"I — I  just  escaped  from  an  Indian  who  carried  me 
off  from  Arkansas  City,"  answered  Nellie. 

"An  Indian !    Who  was  it,  do  you  know  ?" 

"A  fellow  named  Yellow  Elk." 

Vorlange  uttered  a  low  whistle. 

"Where  is  he  now?"  he  questioned. 

"I  left  him  back  in  yonder  hills,  in  a  cave." 

Again  the  spy  uttered  a  whistle,  but  whether  of  sur 
prise  or  dismay  Nellie  could  not  tell. 

"Were  you  alone  with  Yellow  plk?" 

"I  was  for  a  time.  But  a  white  man  came  to  my  aid 
and  the  two  had  a  fight." 

"Who  was  the  white  man?" 

Before  she  gave  the  matter  a  second  thought,  Nellie 
answered : 

"Mr.  Pawnee  Brown." 


NELLIE  MEETS  VORLANGE  153 

"Ha!"  Vorlange's  eyes  gleamed,  and  the  girl  felt 
certain  she  had  made  a  mistake. 

"Where  is  Pawnee  Brown  now?" 

"I  left  him  in  the  cave  with  the  Indian.  I  expected 
him  to  follow  me." 

"I  see.    And  what  may  your  name  be?" 

The  man's  words  were  fair  enough,  but  Nellie  did 
not  like  his  manneer  at  all,  so  she  turned  upon  him 
coldly. 

And  what  is  your  name,  and  who  are  you  ?" 

"I  am  not  here  to  answer  questions,  miss.  I  am  a 
government  official,  let  that  be  enough  for  you  to 
know." 

As  he  spoke  Louis  Vorlange  caught  Nellie  by  the 
arm. 

"Let  go  of  me,"  cried  the  frightened  girl,  and  at 
tempted  to  pull  away,  but  Vorlange  held  her  tight. 

"You  come  along  with  me.  No  one,  and  especially 
Pawnee  Brown,  has  any  right  in  this  territory  just 
now,  and  it  is  my  business  to  see  that  all  such  people 
are  kept  out.  I  presume  you  belong  to  that  crowd  of 
boomers,  since  you  say  you  were  carried  off  from  Ar 
kansas  City?" 

"I  shall  answer  no  more  of  your  questions,  sir.  Let 
.me  go!" 

"You'll  come  along  with  me,"  muttered  Vorlange. 


154  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

"I  take  it  you  know  what  the  boomers  intend  to  do, 
and,  if  that  is  so,  your  information  is  just  what  the 
government  wants." 

So  speaking  he  attempted  to  drag  Nellie  up  the 
rocks  to  the  opening  before  mentioned.  The  girl  re 
sisted  with  all  of  her  strength,  and  Vorlange  received 
a  box  on  the  left  ear  which  made  that  member  of  his 
body  hum  for  a  long  time  after. 

"You  little  wretch!"  he  cried,  as  he  caught  her  up  in 
his  arms.  "I  will  get  square  with  you  for  that." 

"You  are  no  gentleman !  Let  me  go !"  replied  Nellie. 
Then  she  attempted  to  scream,  but  he  promptly 
clapped  his  hand  over  her  mouth. 

In  another  moment,  despite  her  utmost  struggles,  he 
was  carrying  her  up  to  the  opening.  This  spot  once 
reached,  he  took  her  inside  and  over  to  a  well-like  hole 
upon  one  side. 

"Do  you  see  that  hole?"  he  said  sternly.  "I  am 
going  to  put  you  in  that  for  the  present,  for  safe  keep 
ing.  I  call  it  my  prison  cell,  and  no  cell  could  be  bet 
ter.  It  is  not  a  cheerful  place,  but  you  will  be  as  safe 
there  as  in  the  best  prison  in  Chicago  or  San  Francisco. 
I'll  be  back  for  you  soon,  and  in  the  meantime  you  had 
better  make  no  attempt  to  escape,  for  at  the  mouth  of 
this  opening  is  set  a  gun,  with  a  wire  attachment, 
which  may  blow  you  up."  * 


NELLIE   MEETS  VORLANGE  155 

This  latter  statement  was  a  false  one,  but  Vorlange 
rightfully  calculated  that  it  would  have  its  due  effect 
upon  the  frightened  girl. 

Having  thus  intimidated  Nellie,  Vorlange  lowered 
her  into  the  opening  in  the  rocks,  which  was  about  six 
feet  in  diameter  and  at  least  ten  feet  deep.  This  done, 
he  lit  a  lantern  and  hung  it  so  that  its  rays  might  shine 
down  upon  his  captive. 

"You  won't  feel  so  lonesome  with  the  light,"  he  said. 
"Now  keep  quiet  until  I  return.  If  you  behave  your 
self  you  have  nothing  to  fear.  I  am  a  government 
officer  and  I  am  holding  you  as  a  prisoner  only  until  I 
can  turn  you  over  to  the  proper  authorities." 

"It  is  a— a  queer  proceeding,"  faltered  Nellie.  She 
could  hardly  bring  herself  to  believe  the  man. 

"Out  here  we  can't  do  things  exactly  as  they  are 
done  in  the  big  cities,"  grinned  Vorlange.  "We  are 
out  here  after  the  boomers  just  now,  and  your  being 
here  with  Pawnee  Brown  will  rather  go  against  you. 
But  keep  quiet  now  until  I  return." 

Thus  speaking,  the  spy  quitted  the  opening,  leaving 
Nellie  alone.  With  hasty  steps  Vorlange  made  his 
way  along  the  fork  of  the  ravine  until  the  opening 
proper  was  reached.  Here  he  settled  himself  in  a  tree 
to  watch  for  Pawnee  Brown's  possible  coming.  But, 
as  we  know,  the  scout  did  not  move  in  that  direction, 


156  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

For  over  two  hours  Nellie  was  left  alone,  a  prey  to 
the  keenest  mental  torture  it  is  possible  to  imagine. 
As  the  day  was  drawing  to  a  close  Vorlange  appeared, 
a  peculiar  smile  upon  his  face. 

He  had  met  the  cavalrymen,  and  Jack  Rasco  had 
been  captured  as  previously  described. 

"Well,  we  are  going  to  move  now/'  he  said  to  Nellie, 
and  threw  down  a  rope  that  he  might  haul  her  up  out 
of  the  hole. 

"Where  to?" 

"You'll  learn  that  later." 

As  she  did  not  wish  to  remain  in  that  damp  spot 
longer,  she  caught  the  rope  and  was  drawn  up.  Then 
Vorlange  took  her  outside  and  sat  her  down  before  him 
on  his  horse,  first,  however,  tying  her  hands. 

It  was  during  the  ride  that  followed  that  Dick  heard 
her  cry  for  help  and  started  to  her  rescue,  only  to  miss 
her  and  get  lost  in  the  brush. 

A  ride  of  half  an  hour  brought  the  pair  to  the  edge 
of  a  heavy  timber.  Through  this  they  picked  their 
way,  until  a  small  clearing  was  gained,  where  was  lo 
cated  a  low  log  cabin,  containing  two  rooms.  The  log 
cabin  was  not  inhabited,  and  Vorlange  pushed  open  the 
door  without  ceremony. 

"You'll  stay  here  over  night,"  he  said,  as  he  ushered 
Nellie  into  the  smaller  room.  "You  can  see  this  has 


NELLIE  MEETS  VORLANGE  157 

been  used  for  a  prison  before,  as  all  of  the  windows  are 
nailed  up.  I  don't  believe  you'll  try  to  escape  anyway, 
for,  let  me  warn  you,  it  won't  pay.  Make  yourself  as 
comfortable  as  you  can,  and  in  the  morning  we'll  come 
to  an  understanding.  We've  got  another  prisoner  be 
sides  yourself,  and  between  the  two  of  you  I  reckon 
we'll  find  out  before  long  just  what  the  boomers  are  up 
to." 

And  with  a  dark  look  upon  his  face,  Louis  Vorlange 
stalked  out  of  the  apartment,  locking  the  door  after 
him,  and  thus  leaving  Nellie  to  her  fate. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THE  MOVING  OF  THE  BOOMERS. 

"Pawnee  Brown  at  last !" 

The  words  came  from  one  of  the  boomers,  a  fat  but 
spry  old  chap  named  Dunbar. 

"Yes,  Dunbar,"  answered  the  great  scout.  "Were 
you  getting  anxious  about  me  ?" 

"Well,  just  a  trifle,  Pawnee." 

"The  camp  must  move  at  once.  Send  the  word 
around  immediately,  Dunbar." 

"Whar  dp  we  move  to?" 

"To  Honnewell.  As  soon  as  all  hands  are  at  Hon- 
newell  I'll  send  out  further  orders." 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  immense  wagon  train 
organized  by  the  boomers  located  in  Kansas  was  on  the 
way. 

At  the  front  rode  Pawnee  Brown,  Clemmer  and  sev 
eral  others  who  were  personal  friends  of  the  scout. 

It  was  a  grand  sight,  this  moving.  To  this  day  some 
of  the  boomers  say  it  was  the  grandest  sight  they  ever 
beheld. 

Every  heart  was  full  of  hope.  Past  trials  and  hard- 
(158) 


THE  MOVING  OF  THE  BOOMERS  159 

ships  were  forgotten.  The  boomers  were  to  enter  the 
richest  farming  lands  in  the  States  and  there  start  life 
anew. 

The  movement  was  made  in  silence  and  in  almost 
utter  darkness.  Of  course,  it  was  impossible  to  hide 
the  news  from  the  citizens  of  Arkansas  City,  but  the 
train  was  well  on  its  way  before  the  news  had  any 
chance  of  spreading. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  write  there  were  several 
trails  to  Honnewell  from  Arkansas  City.  The  regular 
road  was  a  fair  one  in  good  weather,  but,  after  such  a 
rain  as  had  fallen,  this  trail  was  hub-deep  with  mud  in 
more  than  one  spot. 

"Oi'll  not  go  thot  trail,"  was  Delaney's  comment. 
"Oi'll  take  the  upper  road." 

"Thot's  roight,  Mike,"  put  in  Rosy,  his  wife.  'It's 
not  meself  as  wants  to  stick  fast  in  this  black  mud. 
Sure,  and  it's  worse  nor  the  bogs  of  Erin !" 

"Vot's  dot  road  you  vos  speakin'  apout  alretty?"  put 
in  Humpendinck,  who  had  as  heavy  a  wagon  as  any 
one. 

"It's  a  better  road  nor  this,  Humpy,"  replied  Mike 
Delaney.  "Folly  me  an'  we'll  rach  Honnewell  afore 
enny  of  'em,  mark  me  wurrud." 

Thus  encouraged,  Humpendinck  followed  Delaney 


l6o  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMERS 

on  the  upper  train,  and,  seeing  the  two  go  off,  half  a 
dozen  followed. 

It  was  more  than  half  an  hour  after  before  Pawnee 
Brown  heard  of  their  departure. 

The  great  scout  was  much  disturbed. 

"It's  foolishness  for  them  to  start  off  on  the  upper 
trail,"  he  declared.  "I  went  over  it  but  a  few  days 
ago,  and  at  Brown's  Crossing  the  road  is  all  torn  up 
by  a  freshet.  Besides  that,  we  must  keep  together." 

"Yer  right  thar,  Pawnee,"  answered  Clemmer.  "De- 
laney  ought  to  know  better.  But  yer  can't  tell  the  Irish 
anything." 

"Humpendinck  went  with  him,"  put  in  Dunbar,  who 
had  brought  the  news. 

"Both  the  Irishman  and  the  German  are  smart 
enough  in  their  way,"  answered  Pawnee  Brown.  "But 
they've  made  a  mistake.  Cal  and  Dunbar,  you  con 
tinue  at  the  head,  and  I'll  ride  across  country  and  head 
Delaney  and  his  crowd  back  through  the  Allen  trail. 
I'll  probably  rejoin  you  just  this  side  of  Honnewell." 

With  this  command,  Pawnee  Brown  left  the  wagon 
train  and  plunged  off  through  the  darkness  alone. 

He  had  been  over  that  district  many  times  and 
thought  he  knew  about  every  foot  of  the  ground. 

But  for  once  the  great  scout  was  mistaken,  and  that 


THE  MOVING  OF  THE  BOOMERS  l6l 

mistake  was  destined  to  bring  him  into  serious  diffi 
culty. 

About  half  a  mile  had  been  covered,  and  he  was 
just  approaching  a  patch  of  small  timber,  when  he 
noticed  that  Bonnie  Bird  began  to  show  signs  oi  shy 
ness.  She  did  not  refuse  to  go  forward,  but  evidently 
was  proceeding  against  her  will. 

Quick  to  notice  a  change  in  the  beautiful  mare's 
mood,  Pawnee  Brown  spoke  to  her.  She  pawed  the 
ground  and  tossed  her  head. 

"What  is  it,  Bonnie  ?    Danger  ahead  ?" 

Again  the  mare  pawed  the  ground.  Feeling  certain 
something  was  wrong,  Pawnee  Brown  stood  up  in  his 
stirrups  and  looked  about  him. 

All  was  dark  and  silent  upon  every  side.  Overhead 
the  faint  stars  shed  but  an  uncertain  light. 

"It's  one  too  many  for  me,  Bonnie,"  he  mused. 
"Forward  until  the  danger  becomes  clearer." 

Thus  commanded,  the  mare  moved  forward  once 
more,  but  this  time  much  slower.  Once  or  twice  her 
feet  seemed  to  stick  fast,  but  Pawnee  Brown  did  not 
notice  this.  At  last  she  came  to  a  dead  halt  and  would 
not  go  another  step. 

"The  danger  must  be  in  the  timber,"  thought  the 
boomer.  "Bonnie  Bird  wouldn't  balk  for  nothing.  I'll 
dismount  and  reconnoitre." 


l62  THE    BOY    LAND    BOOMER 

Springing  to  the  ground,  he  drew  his  pistol  and 
moved  forward  silently.  Scarcely  had  he  taken  a 
dozen  steps  than  he  realized  the  cause  of  his  mare's  un 
willingness  to  proceed  further. 

He  was  in  a  bed  of  quicksand. 

Anybody  who  knows  what  a  bed  of  quicksand  is 
knows  how  dangerous  it  is — dangerous  to  both  man 
and  beast.  Just  as  the  scout  made  his  discovery  he 
sank  up  to  his  knees  in  the  mass. 

"By  jove!  I  must  get  back  out  of  this,  and  in 
double-quick  order,"  he  muttered,  and  tried  to  turn,  to 
find  himself  sinking  up  to  his  waist. 

Pawnee  Brown  was  now  fully  alive  to  the  grave 
peril  of  his  situation. 

He  tried  by  all  the  strength  at  his  command  to  pull 
himself  to  the  firm  ground  from  which  he  had  started. 

He  could  not  budge  a  foot.  True,  he  took  one  step, 
but  it  was  only  to  sink  in  deeper  than  ever. 

Several  minutes  of  great  anxiety  passed.  He  had 
sunk  very  nearly  up  to  his  armpits. 

Quarter  of  an  hour  more  and  he  would  be  up  to  his 

head,  and  then ?  Brave  as  he  was,  the  great  scout 

did  not  dare  to  think  further.  The  idea  of  a  death  in 
the  treacherous  quicksand  was  truly  horrible. 

His  friends  would  wonder  what  had  become  of  him, 
but  it  was  not  likely  that  they  would  ever  find  his  body. 


THE  MOVING  OF  THE  BOOMERS  163 

And  even  faithful  Bonnie  Bird  would  be  dumb,  so 
far  as  telling  the  particulars  of  her  master's  disappear 
ance  was  concerned. 

The  mare  now  stood  upon  the  edge  of  the  quick 
sands,  fifteen  feet  off,  whining  anxiously.  She  knew 
as  well  as  though  she  had  been  a  human  being  that 
something  was  wrong. 

Suddenly  an  inspiration  came  to  Pawnee  Brown. 

"How  foolish!  Why  didn't  I  think  of  that  before?" 
he  muttered. 

At  his  belt  had  hung  a  lariat,  placed  there  when  the 
wagon  train  started,  in  case  any  of  the  animals  should 
attempt  to  run  off  in  the  darkness. 

The  boomer  could  use  a  lariat  as  well  as  Clemmer  or 
any  of  the  cowboys.  More  than  once,  riding  at  full 
speed  upon  his  mare,  he  had  thrown  the  noose  around 
any  foot  of  a  steer  that  was  selected  by  those  looking 
on. 

He  put  his  hand  down  to  his  waist  and  felt  for  the 
lariat.  It  was  still  there,  and  he  brought  it  up  and 
swung  it  over  his  head,  to  free  it  from  the  quicksand. 

As  has  been  stated,  the  belt  of  timber  was  not  far 
away,  the  nearest  tree  being  less  than  fifty  feet  from 
where  he  remained  stuck. 

Preparing  the  lariat,  he  threw  the  noose  up  and 
away  from  him.  It  circled  through  the  air  and  fell 


164  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

over  the  nearest  branch  of  the  tree.  Hauling  it  taut, 
Pawnee  Brown  tested  it,  to  make  sure  it  would  not  slip, 
and  then  began  to  haul  himself  up,  as  Rasco  had  done 
at  the  swamp  hole. 

It  was  slow  work,  and  more  than  once  he  felt  that 
the  lariat  would  break,  so  great  was  the  strain  put  upon 
it. 

But  it  held,  and  a  few  minutes  later  Pawnee  Brown 
found  himself  with  somewhat  cut  hands,  safe  in  the 
branches  of  the  tree. 

Winding  up  the  lariat,  he  descended  to  the  ground, 
and  made  a  detour  to  where  Bonnie  Bird  remained 
standing,  and  to  where  he  had  cast  his  pistol. 

The  mare  and  weapon  secured,  he  continued  on  his 
way,  but  made  certain  to  wander  into  no  more  quick 
sand  spots. 

"It  was  too  narrow  an  escape  for  comfort,"  was  the 
way  in  which  Pawnee  Brown  expressed  himself,  when 
he  told  the  story  later. 

An  hour  after  found  him  again  among  the  boomers. 

Mike  Delaney  was  just  coming  in  by  the  Allen  trail. 
The  Irishman  was  much  crestfallen  over  his  failure 
to  find  a  better  trail  than  that  selected  by  the  scout, 
and  Rosy  was  giving  it  to  him  with  a  vengeance. 

"Th'  nixt  toime  ye  go  forward  it  will  be  undher 
Pawnee  Brown's  directions,  Moike  Delaney!"  she 


THE  MOVING  OF  THE  BOOMERS  165 

cried.  "It's  not  yerself  thot  is  as  woise  as  Moses  in  the 
wilderness,  moind  thot  1"  And  her  clenched  fist  shook 
vigorously  to  emphasize  her  words.  After  that  Delaney 
never  strayed  from  the  proper  trail  again. 

All  of  the  boomers  but  Jack  Rasco  were  now  on 
hand,  and  as  hour  after  hour  went  by  and  Rasco  did 
not  turn  up,  Pawnee  Brown  grew  anxious  about  the 
welfare  of  his  right-hand  man. 

"Looking  for  the.  girl  had  brought  him  into  trouble, 
more  than  likely,"  he  thought,  as  he  rode  away  from 
Honnewell,  taking  a  due  south  course.  "And  what 
can  have  become  of  her?" 

Pawnee  Brown  was  on  his  way  to  the  spot  where  he 
had  left  Dick.  He  had  decided  that  as  soon  as  he  had 
found  the  lad,  he  would  return  to  camp,  and  then  the 
onward  march  of  the  boomers  for  Oklahoma  should  at 
once  be  begun. 

On  through  the  ravine  where  he  had  met  Yellow 
Elk  he  dashed,  Bonnie  Bird  feeling  fresh  after  a  short 
rest  and  her  morning  meal,  for  the  sun  was  now  creep 
ing  skyward.  On  through  the  brush,  and  he  turned 
toward  the  open  prairie. 

"Halt !    Throw  up  your  hands !" 
The  unexpected  command  came  from  the  thicket  on 
the  edge  of  the  prairie.    On  the  instant  the  boomer 
wheeled  about.    The  sight  which  met  his  gaze  caused 


1 66  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

his  heart  to  sink  within  him.  There,  drawn  up  in  line, 
was  the  full  troop  of  cavalry  sent  out  by  the  govern 
ment  to  stop  the  boomers'  entrance  to  the  much-coveted 
territory. 

Vorlange's  spy  work  was  responsible,  and  Pawnee 
Brown's  carefully-laid  plan  had  fallen  through. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

DICK'S  DISAGREEABLE  DISCOVERY. 

"Lost !" 

Dick  murmured  the  word  over  and  over  again,  as  he 
peered  through  the  brush,  first  in  one  direction  and 
then  in  another. 

"I  ought  to  have  kept  track  of  where  I  was  going," 
he  went  on  bitterly.  "Of  course,  away  out  here  one 
place  is  about  as  good  as  another  for  hiding,  but  how 
am  I  going  to  find  the  others,  or,  rather,  how  are  they 
going  to  find  me,  when  they  come  back  ?" 

He  pushed  on  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour;  then, 
coming  to  a  flat  rock,  threw  himself  down  for  reflec 
tion. 

"Just  my  luck!"  he  muttered.  "I'll  have  to  have  a 
string  tied  about  my  neck  like  a  poodle  dog.  What  a 
clown  I  was  to  go  it  blind !  But  Nellie's  cry  for  help 
made  me  forget  everything  else.  Poor  girl !  I  do  hope 
she  is  safe.  If  that  redskin— gosh !  what's  that?" 

The  flat  rock  was  backed  up  by  a  number  of  heavy 
bushes.  From  these  bushes  had  come  a  peculiar  noise, 
half  grunt,  half  yawn!  Dick  leaped  to  his  feet,  the 

(167) 


1 68  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

bushes  parted  and  there  appeared  the  savage  face  of 
Yellow  Elk! 

Dick  knew  the  Indian  by  that  plume  of  which  he 
had  heard  so  much.  He  rightfully  guessed  that  Yel 
low  Elk  had  been  taking  a  nap  behind  the  bushes.  He 
had  been  shot  in  the  thigh,  and  this,  coupled  with  the 
fact  that  he  had  had  no  sleep  for  two  nights,  had  made 
him  very  weary. 

As  the  Indian  chief  shoved  his  face  into  view  he 
caught  sight  of  Dick  and  uttered  a  slight  huh!  Up 
came  the  boy's  weapon,  but  on  the  instant  Yellow  Elk 
disappeared. 

For  the  moment  Dick  was  too  paralyzed  to  move. 
Like  a  flash  he  realized  that  Yellow  Elk  had  the  better 
of  him,  for  the  Indian  was  behind  shelter,  while  he 
stood  in  a  clearing. 

"White  boy  stand  still !"  came  in  guttural  tones  from 
the  redskin.  "Don't  dare  move,  or  Indian  shoot." 

"What  do  you  want  of  me?"  asked  Dick. 

"White  boy  all  alone?" 

"What  business  is  that  of  yours  ?" 

At  this  Yellow  Elk  muttered  a  grunt.  Then  from 
out  of  the  bushes  Dick  saw  thrust  the  shining  barrel  of 
a  horse  pistol. 

"White  boy  throw  down  little  shooter,"  commanded 
the  redskin.  By  little  shooter  he  meant  Dick's  pistol. 


DICK.S   DISAGREEABLE   DISCOVERY  169 

There  was  no  help  for  it,  and  the  youth  did  as  re 
quested. 

" White  boy  got  udder  shooter?" 

"No." 

"Now  say  if  white  boy  alone.  Speak  if  want  to  save 
life." 

"Yes,  I  am  alone,  Yellow  Elk." 

"Ha!  you  know  Yellow  Elk?"  cried  the  Indian  in 
surprise. 

"I've  heard  of  you." 

"What  white  boy  do  here?" 

"I  am  lost." 

"Lost.  Huh !"  and  a  look  of  disgust  crossed  the  In 
dian  chief's  face.  The  idea  of  a  human  being  losing 
his  way  was  something  he  could  not  understand.  Dur 
ing  his  life  he  had  covered  thousands  of  miles  of 
prairie  and  forest  lands  and  had  never  yet  lost  himself. 
Such  is  the  training  and  instinct  of  a  true  American 
aboriginal. 

While  speaking  Yellow  Elk  had  leaped  through  the 
brush,  and  now  he  came  up  and  peered  into  Dick's  face. 
Instantly  his  eyes  filled  with  anger. 

"I  know  white  boy;  he  friend  to  Pawnee  Brown. 
Indian  see  him  at  big  moving" — -meaning  the  camp  of 
the  boomers.  He  had  not  noticed  Dick  in  the  fight  at 
the  cave. 


170  THE   BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

"Yes,  Pawnee  Brown  is  my  friend,"  answered  Dick. 
"Where  is  he  now  ?"  he  added,  to  throw  the  Indian  off 
the  series  of  questions  he  was  propounding. 

"Pawnee  Brown  dead!"  muttered  Yellow  Elk  sim 
ply.  "White  boy  come  with  me." 

"With  you!"  ejaculated  Dick,  a  chill  creeping  up  to 
his  heart. 

"Yes;  come  now.  No  wait,  or  Yellow  Elk  shoot!" 
and  again  the  horse  pistol  was  raised. 

The  tone  was  so  ugly  that  Dick  felt  it  would  be  use 
less  to  hang  back.  Yellow  Elk  pointed  with  his  arm  in 
the  direction  he  wished  the  lad  to  proceed,  and  away 
they  went,  the  Indian  but  a  pace  behind,  and  keeping 
his  pistol  where  it  would  be  ready  for  use  whenever  re 
quired. 

Dick  never  forgot  that  walk  in  the  starlight,  taken 
at  about  the  same  time  that  Pawnee  Brown  was  floun 
dering  in  the  quicksand.  A  mile  or  more  was  cov 
ered,  over  prairies,  through  a  wood  and  across  several 
small  streams,  for  the  fertile  Indian  Territory 
abounds  in  water  courses.  Yellow  Elk  stuck  to  him 
like  a  shadow,  and  the  pistol  was  continually  in  evi 
dence.  Yellow  Elk  had  likewise  appropriated  Dick's 
weapon,  the  one  cast  to  the  ground. 

Presently  a  clearing  was  gained  where  stood  a  cabin 
built  of  logs.  All  about  the  place  was  deserted.  Going 


DICK'S  DISAGREEABLE  DISCOVERY  171 

up  to  the  cabin  the  Indian  opened  the  door  and  lit  a 
match. 

"White  boy  go  inside  and  we  have  talk,"  said  Yel 
low  Elk,  when  there  came  a  noise  from  the  woods  be 
yond.  At  once  Yellow  Elk  pushed  Dick  into  the  cabin 
and  bolted  the  door  from  the  outside. 

"White  boy  keep  quiet  or  Yellow  Elk  come  in  and 
kill !"  he  hissed,  in  a  low  but  distinct  tone.  "No  make 
a  sound  till  Indian  open  door  again." 

The  Indian's  words  were  so  terrifying  that  Dick 
stood  still  for  several  minutes  exactly  where  he  had 
been  thrust.  All  was  pitch  dark  around  him.  He 
listened,  but  not  a  sound  reached  his  ears. 

"Where  in  the  world  is  this  adventure  going  to 
end?"  was  the  thought  which  coursed  through  his 
mind. 

He  wondered  what  had  alarmed  Yellow  Elk.  Was 
it  the  approach  of  some  white  friend  ?  Fervidly  he 
prayed  it  might  be. 

A  low,  half-suppressed  cough  from  somewhere 
close  at  hand  caught  his  ear  and  made  him  start. 

"Who  is  there  ?"  he  asked  aloud. 

"Oh,  Dick  Arbuckle,  is  that  you  ?"  came  in  an  eager 
voice. 

"Nellie  Winthrop!  Is  it  possible?  Where  are 
you?" 


172  THE   BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

"In  the  next  room." 

"Can't  you  come  out?" 

"No;  I'm  locked  in." 

"Gosh,  you  don't  say!  Forgetting  his  former  fear, 
Dick  hurried  across  the  cabin  floor  to  the  door  of  the 
inner  apartment.  Feeling  around  in  the  dark  he  found 
a  hasp  and  staple  and  pulled  out  the  plug  which  fas 
tened  the  barrier.  In  another  instant  boy  and  girl 
plumped  into  each  other's  arms  in  the  darkness.  Even 
in  that  moment  of  peril  Dick  could  not  resist  giving 
Nellie  a  little  squeeze,  which  she  did  not  resent. 

"But  how  came  you  here?"  asked  the  youth  quickly. 

"I  was  captured  by  a  government  spy,  who  wants 
to  get  from  me  some  secret  of  the  boomers.  He  is  a 
bad-looking  man,  and  I  was  awfully  afraid  of  him." 

"Yellow  Elk  brought  me  here.  We  are  prisoners 
together.  Some  noise  in  the  woods  just  took  Yellow 
Elk  off." 

"The  man  has  been  gone  less  than  five  minutes. 
Perhaps  they  are  in  league  with  each  other,"  sug 
gested  Nellie. 

"Perhaps,  or  they  may  be  enemies.  But  never  mind 
how  that  stands.  We  must  get  away,  Nellie,  and  that 
before  Yellow  Elk  comes  back." 

"Heaven  knows,  I  am  willing!"  gasped  the  tremb 
ling  girl.  "I  want  no  more  of  Yellow  Elk." 


173 

"The  window  is  nailed  up,"  went  on  Dick,  after  an 
examination.  "And  the  Indian  fastened  that  door 
from  the  outside.  I  wonder  if  I  can't  get  out  by  way  of 
thereof?"  He  lit  a  match  and  gazed  upward.  "There 
is  an  opening.  Here  goes !" 

In  another  instant  he  was  climbing  up  beside  the 
fireplace,  to  where  a  scuttle  led  to  the  sloping  roof.  He 
was  soon  without,  and  Nellie  heard  him  drop  to  the 
ground.  Then  the  outer  door  was  thrown  back. 

"Quick!  The  Indian  is  coming  back,  and  there  is 
somebody  with  him !"  whispered  Dick,  and,  taking 
hold  of  Nellie's  hand,  he  led  her  away  as  fast  as  pos 
sible.  Their  course  was  from  the  rear  of  the  cabin  and 
across  a  broad  but  shallow  stream. 

"We'll  go  down  the  stream  a  bit  before  we  land," 
said  Dick,  as  they  were  on  the  point  of  stepping  out 
of  the  water.  "That  may  serve  to  throw  Yellow  Elk 
off  the  trail." 

"Yes,  yes,  but  do  hurry!"  answered  the  girl.  "If 
Yellow  Elk  gets  hold  of  me  again  I'll  die !"  The  fear 
of  getting  into  the  clutches  of  the  red  man  was  so  great 
she  trembled  from  head  to  foot  and  would  have  gone 
down  had  not  Dick's  strong  arm  supported  her. 

It  was  wonderful  how  strong  the  youth  felt,  now 
that  he  had  somebody  besides  himself  to  protect.  It 
is  said  that  nature  fits  the  back  to  the  burden,  and  it 


J74  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

must  have  been  so  in  this  case.  For  himself,  he  might 
have  feared  to  face  Yellow  Elk  single-handed;  de 
fending  Nellie  he  would,  if  called  upon,  have  faced  a 
dozen  redskins. 

On  and  on  they  went,  as  silently  as  possible.  The 
trees  overhung  the  brook  from  both  sides,  making  it 
pitch  dark  beneath. 

A  distance  of  fifty  yards  had  been  covered,  when 
they  heard  a  loud  exclamation  of  rage,  followed  by  an 
Indian  grunt. 

"The  white  man  and  the  Indian  have  met  and  both 
have  discovered  our  flight,"  whispered  Dick.  "Come, 
we  will  leave  the  stream  and  take  to  yonder  woods. 
Surely  among  those  trees  we  can  find  some  safe  hiding 
place." 

They  turned  in  toward  shore.  As  they  were  about 
to  step  to  dry  land  Nellie's  foot  slipped  on  a  round 
stone,  making  a  loud  splash.  At  the  same  time  the 
girl  gave  a  faint  cry. 

"My  ankle — it's  twisted !" 

"Quick!  let  me  carry  you!"  returned  Dick,  and, 
seeing  the  ankle  must  pain  her  not  a  little,  he  picked 
her  up  in  his  arms  and  dove  in  among  the  trees. 

They  were  not  a  moment  too  soon,  for  the  ready 
ears  of  Yellow  Elk  had  heard  the  splash  and  the  cry, 
and  now  he  came  bounding  in  the  direction,  with  Louis 
Vorlange  at  his  heels. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

DICK  HITS  HIS  MARK. 

"They  are  coming  closer,  Dick !    What  shall  we  do  ?" 

It  was  Nellie  Winthrop  who  asked  the  question. 
Boy  and  girl  had  entered  the  woods  a  distance  of  fifty 
feet  from  the  bank  of  the  brook,  and  both  rested 
where  several  large  rocks  and  some  overhanging 
bushes  afforded  a  convenient  hiding  place. 

"Keep  quiet,  Nellie,"  he  said  in  a  murmur,  with  his 
lips  close  to  her  shell-like  ears.  And  he  gripped  her 
arm  to  show  her  that  he  would  stand  by  her  no  matter 
what  danger  might  befall  them. 

It  would  have  been  foolhardy  to  say  more,  for  Yel 
low  Elk  and  Louis  Vorlange  were  now  within  hearing 
distance,  and  the  ears  of  the  Indian  chief  were  more 
than  ever  on  the  alert.  The  government  spy  had 
lighted  a  torch,  which  he  swung  low  to  the  brook 
bank,  while  Yellow  Elk  made  an  examination  of  the 
ground. 

"Here  footmarks!"  grunted  the  redskin,  a  minute 
later,  and  pointed  them  out.  They  go  this  way— can 
not  be  far  off." 

(175) 


!^6  THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

"Then  after  them/'  muttered  Vorlange.  "It  was 
through  your  stupidity  that  the  girl  got  away.  Yellow 
Elk,  I  always  put  you  down  for  being  smarter  than 

that." 

" Yellow  Elk  smart  enough!"  growled  the  Indian 

chief. 

"No,  you're  not.  In  some  things  you  are  like  a 
block  of  wood/'  grumbled  Vorlange.  The  escape  of 
Nellie  had  put  him  out  a  good  deal. 

The  manner  of  the  government  spy  provoked  the 
Indian.  To  be  called  a  block  of  wood  is,  to  the  red 
man,  a  direct  insult.  Yellow  Elk  straightened  up. 

"White  man  big  fool !"  he  hissed.  "Yellow  Elk  not 
make  chase  for  him,"  and  he  folded  his  arms. 

"You  won't  go  after  the  boy  and  the  girl?"  queried 
Vorlange. 

"No— white  man  hunt  for  himself  if  he  want  to 
catch  the  little  woman  again." 

And  having  thus  delivered  himself,  Yellow  Elk  sat 
down  by  the  brook  and  refused  to  budge  another  step. 
The  Indian's  objections  to  continuing  the  search 
were  more  numerous  than  appeared  on  the  surface. 
The  so-called  insult,  bad  as  it  was,  was  merely  an  ex 
cuse  to  hide  other  motives.  Yellow  Elk  had  known 
Vorlange  for  years  and  as  the  spy  was  naturally  a 
mean  fellow,  the  redskin  hated  him  accordingly. 


DICK  HITS  HIS  MARK  177 

Another  reason  for  refusing  to  go  ahead  was  that 
Yellow  Elk  knew  only  too  well  that  if  Dick  and  Nellie 
were  again  taken,  Vorlange  would  consider  both  his 
own  captives,  and  Yellow  Elk  would  be  "counted  out" 
of  the  entire  proceedings.  He  could  not  go  to  the 
agency  and  claim  any  glory,  for  he  had  run  away  with 
out  permission,  although  he  had  told  Vorlange  he  was 
away  on  a  special  mission  connected  with  the  soldiers. 

And  deeper  than  all  was  the  thought  that  if  he  did 
not  capture  Nellie  now,  he  might  do  so  later  on,  when 
he  had  separated  from  the  spy.  Ever  since  he  had  first 
seen  the  beautiful  girl  he  had  been  covetous  of  making 
her  his  squaw.  Indian  fashion,  he  felt  he  could  compel 
Nellie  to  choose  him,  even  if  he  had  to  whip  her  into 
making  the  choice. 

"You  won't  go  on  with  the  search?"  cried  Vorlange, 
in  a  rage. 

MNo,"  was  the  short  answer. 

"I  say  you  shall!  See  here,  Yellow  Elk,  do  you 
want  to  be  shot  ?" 

"Yellow  Elk  not  afraid  of  Vorlange — Vorlange 
know  dat.  Yellow  Elk  go  back  to  cabin  to  see  if  girl 
or  boy  leave  anything  behind." 

Then  he  got  up,  waded  across  the  brook  again  and 
disappeared  among  the  trees  surrounding  the  log 
cabin. 


THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

Louis  Vorlange  muttered  a  good  many  things  in  a 
very  angry  tone.  Then,  torch  in  hand,  he  started  up 
the  brook  bank  to  follow  the  trail  alone. 

Dick  and  Nellie  listened  to  the  quarrel  with  bated 
breath.  Both  hoped  that  Vorlange  would  follow  to 
the  cabin.  When  he  approached  closer  than  ever,  their 
hearts  seemed  to  almost  stop  beating. 

Feeling  that  a  contest  was  at  hand,  Dick  groped 
around  in  the  darkness  for  some  weapon.  No  stick 
was  at  hand,  but  at  his  feet  lay  a  jagged  stone  weigh 
ing  all  of  a  pound.  He  took  it  up  and  held  it  in  readi 
ness. 

Closer  and  closer  came  Vorlange,  turning  now  to 
the  right  and  now  to  the  left,  for  following  the  trail 
among  the  rocks  and  brush  was  no  easy  matter. 

"Might  as  well  give  yourselves  up!"  he  called  out. 
"I  am  bound  to  spot  you  sooner  or  later." 

To  this  neither  offered  any  reply,  but  Dick  felt 
Nellie  shiver.  They  could  now  see  the  flare  of  the 
torch  plainly,  for  Vorlange  was  less  than  thirty  feet 
away. 

Presently  the  spy  uttered  a  low  cry  of  pleasure.  He 
had  found  several  footprints,  where  Dick  had  slipped 
from  a  rock  into  the  dirt.  Now  he  came  straight  for 
them,  waving  the  torch  above  his  head  that  it  might 
throw  its  light  to  a  greater  distance. 


Dick  had  let  fly  the  jagged  stone,  taking  him  directly 
in  the  forehead  and  keeling  him  over  like  a  tenpin  " 


DICK   HITS   HIS    MARK  179 

"So  there  you  are!"  The  man  caught  sight  of 
Nellie's  dress.  "I  told  you  I  would  catch  you.  It's 
not  such  an  easy  matter  to  get  away  from  Louis  Vor- 
lange.  The  next  time  I  lock  you  up — oh!" 

A  deep  groan  escaped  the  spy.  Dick  had  let  fly  the 
jagged  stone,  taking  him  directly  in  the  forehead  and 
keeling  him  over  like  a  tenpin.  The  blow  left  a  deep 
cut  from  which  the  blood  flowed  in  a  stream,  and  Vor- 
lange  was  completely  stunned. 

"Oh,  Dick,  have  you — you — killed  him  ?"  burst  from 
Nellie's  lips,  in  horror. 

"I  guess  not,  Nellie ;  he's  stunned,  that's  all.  Come, 
let  us  run  for  it  again — before  that  Indian  changes  his 
mind  and  comes  back." 

"You  might  take  his  pistol,"  suggested  the  quick 
witted  girl. 

"A  good  idea — I  will.  Now  let  me  carry  you  again, 
I  see  you  can  hardly  stand  on  that  foot."  For  Nellie 
had  limped  along  a  dozen  steps  in  great  pain. 

"But  I  am  so  heavy,  Dick " 

"Never  mind,  I  can  carry  you  a  little  distance,  at 
least." 

"You  had  better  save  yourself  and  let  me  go." 

"What !  Nellie,  do  you  think  me  so  selfish  ?  Never ! 
Come,  and  we'll  escape  or  die  in  the  attempt." 

And  catching  her  up  as  before,  he  started  off  on  as 


180  THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

rapid  a  gait  as  the  weight  of  his  fair  burden  would 
permit. 

A  distance  of  a  hundred  yards  had  been  covered  and 
Dick  found  himself  ascending  a  slight  hill.  The  climb 
was  by  no  means  easy,  yet  he  kept  on  manfully,  know 
ing  what  capture  by  Yellow  Elk  might  mean. 

"He  would  tomahawk  me  and  carry  Nellie  off,"  he 
thought,  and  it  would  be  hard  to  say  which  he  thought 
the  worst,  the  tomahawking  or  the  carrying  off  of  the 
girl  for  whom  he  entertained  such  a  high  regard. 

The  top  of  the  hill  reached,  they  saw  before  them  a 
broad  stretch  of  open  prairie,  flanked  to  the  north  and 
the  south  by  the  woods  from  which  they  had  just 
emerged. 

"I'll  be  thrashed  if  I  know  where  we  are,"  he  said. 
"Have  you  any  idea?" 

"No,  Dick,  I  am  completely  bewildered." 

"I  wonder  if  it  is  safe  to  attempt  to  cross  this  prairie? 
It  is  pretty  dark,  but  that  redskin  has  mighty  sharp 
eyes." 

"Let  us  go  down  to  the  edge  of  the  woods  first  and 
rest  a  bit.  I  am  sure  you  are  pretty  well  out  of  breath, 
and  if  I  can  bathe  my  ankle  in  some  cold  water  perhaps 
I'll  be  able  to  walk  on  it  before  long." 

"Don't  try  it,  Nellie;  I'll  carry  you,"  and  again  the 
youth  picked  her  up. 


DICK    HITS    HIS    MARK  l8l 

It  was  not  long  before  they  reached  a  convenient 
hollow,  where  there  was  a  small  pool.  Here  Nellie 
made  herself  comfortable  and  took  off  the  shoe  which 
hurt  her  so  much.  Bathed,  the  ankle  which  had  been 
twisted  felt  much  better.  It  was  still,  however,  much 
swollen,  and  to  walk  far  on  that  foot  was  as  yet  out 
of  the  question. 

An  hour  went  by,  a  quiet  hour,  in  which  only  the 
cries  of  the  night  birds  and  the  occasional  hoot  of  an 
owl  disturbed  them.  They  conversed  in  whispers  and 
Dick's  ears  were  ever  on  the  alert,  for  he  felt  certain 
that  Vorlange  or  Yellow  Elk  would  sooner  or  later 
continue  the  search  for  them. 

Nellie  was  very  sleepy  and  at  last  her  eyes  closed 
and  she  dropped  into  a  slumber  upon  Dick's  shoulder, 
forming  such  a  pretty  picture  the  youth  could  do  noth 
ing  but  admire  her.  "I'll  save  her— I  must  do  it!"  he 
murmured,  and  kissed  her  wavy  tresses  softly. 

It  wanted  still  two  hours  to  sunrise  when  he  awak 
ened  her.  She  leaped  up  with  a  start. 

"I  have  been  asleep !  Oh,  Dick,  why  did  you  let  me 
drop  off?" 

"I  knew  how  tired  you  must  be  after  going  through 
all  you  did.  But  we  must  be  on  our  way  now,  before 
it  grows  lighter.  How  is  the  foot?" 


1 82  THE  BOY  LAND  BOOMER 

"It  is  stiff,  but  much  better.  Which  way  shall 
we  go?" 

"Let  us  strike  across  the  prairie  and  to  the  north. 
That  is  bound  to  bring  us  into  Kansas  sooner  or  later, 
and  once  there  we'll  be  sure  to  locate  the  boomers 
without  much  trouble." 

Both  were  hungry,  but,  as  there  was  no  food  at 
hand,  neither  said  a  word  on  that  point.  Getting  a 
drink  at  a  running  brook  close  by,  they  started  off, 
Dick  holding  Nellie's  hand,  that  she  might  not  go 
down  on  the  ankle  that  was  still  weak. 

Only  a  corner  of  the  broad  prairie  passed,  and  then 
they  turned  again  into  a  woods.  The  sun  was  now  up 
and  it  was  growing  warmer. 

"I'll  shoot  a  few  birds  if  I  can't  find  anything  else," 
said  Dick.  "We  can't  starve,  and  birds  broiled  over  a 
fire  will  make  a  fair  meal." 

"But  the  noise?"  began  Nellie. 

"I  know;  but,  as  I  said,  we  can't  starve,  Nellie. 
We'll  have  to  take  the  risk.  Here  goes !" 

Dick  crept  forward  to  where  half  a  dozen  birds  sat 
on  a  nearby  bush.  The  birds  were  in  a  flutter  over 
something,  but  Dick  did  not  notice  this.  Bringing  two 
of  the  birds  into  range  for  a  single  shot,  he  blazed 
away  with  his  pistol. 

The  sharp  crack  of  the  firearm  was  still  echoing 


DICK    HITS   HIS    MARK  183 

through  the  woods  when  there  came  a  roar  from  be 
hind  the  bushes  the  birds  had  occupied.  Dick  had 
brought  down  his  game  and  more,  he  had  struck  a 
bear  in  the  shoulder.  In  another  moment  the  huge 
beast  leaped  into  sight,  and  with  angry  eyes  and  gleam 
ing  teeth  bore  straight  for  the  astonished  boy, 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  SOLDIERS  AGAIN. 

Never  was  Dick  Arbuckle  more  astonished  than 
when  the  big  bear  leaped  out  from  behind  the  bushes 
and  confronted  himself  and  Nellie  Winthrop. 

"Oh,  Dick!  a  bear!"  screamed  the  girl,  and  stood 
still,  too  paralyzed  with  fright  to  move. 

As  we  know,  Dick  had  just  brought  down  several 
birds  with  his  pistol — indeed  it  was  this  very  shot 
which  had  clipped  the  bear — and  now  the  weapon  was 
empty  and  useless,  having  had  but  one  chamber  loaded. 

But  as  the  great  beast  came  forward,  Dick  knew 
enough  not  to  stand  still.  He  retreated  in  double-quick 
order,  and  forced  Nellie  to  accompany  him.  Away 
they  went  through  the  woods  with  the  bear  in  close 
pursuit. 

At  the  start  of  the  chase  girl  and  boy  were  at  least 
forty  feet  in  advance,  but  despite  his  bulk  the  bear 
made  rapid  progress,  and  slowly  but  surely  began  to 
lessen  the  distance  between  himself  and  those  he 
sought  to  make  his  victims.  Looking  over  his  shoul 
der,  Dick  saw  him  lumbering  along,  his  mouth  wide 
(184) 


THE   SOLDIERS  AGAIN  185 

open  and  his  blood-red  tongue  hanging  out  as  though 
ready  to  lick  him  in. 

"I — I — can't  run  any  more,"  gasped  Nellie.  Her 
heart  was  beating  as  though  ready  to  break.  "Oh, 
Dick,  what  shall  we  do?" 

"Here  is  a  tree  with  low  bran^nes — jump  for  that — 
I  will  help  you  up !"  returned  the  youth,  and  in  a  few 
seconds  they  were  in  the  tree,  a  scrub  oak,  with  the 
big  bear  underneath,  eyeing  them  angrily,  and  specu 
lating  upon  how  he  could  bring  them  down  within 
reach  of  his  powerful  embrace  and  his  hungry  maw. 

"He  is  going  to  climb  up,"  came  from  Nellie's  lips  a 
few  seconds  later.  She  was  right.  Bruin  had  attacked 
the  tree  trunk  and  now  he  was  coming  up  slowly,  as 
though  afraid  of  moving  into  some  trap. 

Dick  did  not  answer,  for  talking  would  have  done 
no  good.  He  was  re-loading  the  pistol  with  all  possible 
speed. 

Crack !  Dick  had  leaned  down  through  the  branches 
of  the  oak  and  taken  aim  at  one  of  those  bloodshot 
eyes.  There  was  a  howl  and  a  roar,  and  the  bear  fell 
down  with  a  crash  that  shook  the  forest.  As  to 
whether  the  bullet  had  found  that  eye  or  not  Dick  could 
not  tell,  but  certain  it  was  that  once  on  the  ground  the 
bear  picked  himself  up  in  short  order  and  started  to 
run  away. 


l86  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

"You  hit  him !"  cried  Nellie.  "Oh,  Dick,  if  only  he 
don't  come  back!" 

"He's  not  going  away — very  far,"  answered  the  boy. 
The  shot  had  encouraged  him  and  his  blood  was  up. 
A  moment  later  Nellie  was  horrified  to  behold  him 
drop  to  the  grass  and  make  off  after  the  beast. 

"That  bear  will  kill  him  sure!"  she  ejaculated.  "Oh, 
Dick,  come  back !  please  do !"  she  screamed. 

A  shot  answered  her,  a  shot  which  was  quickly  fol 
lowed  by  another.  A  minute  of  painful  silence;  then 
suddenly  the  bear  staggered  into  view  with  Dick  at 
his  heels. 

"I've  nailed  him!"  shouted  the  boy,  joyfully,  and 
another  shot  did  the  work.  With  a  groan  the  bear 
keeled  over,  gave  a  jerk  or  two,  and  died. 

Nellie  was  in  such  a  tremble  she  could  scarcely  de 
scend  from  the  tree.  When  she  did  come  down  she 
found  Dick  hard  at  work  cutting  out  a  juicy  steak 
from  the  bear's  flank. 

"We'll  have  a  breakfast  fit  for  a  king  now,"  he  said, 
with  a  little  laugh,  to  scatter  his  former  nervousness. 
"Just  wait  till  I  light  a  fire.  I  must  gather  the  driest 
available  sticks,  so  as  to  make  as  little  smoke  as  pos 
sible." 

"Yes,  we  don't  want  our  enemies  to  locate  us,"  an 
swered  the  girl,  and  saw  to  it  that  every  twig  which 


THE    SOLDIERS    AGAIN  187 

went  on  the  blaze  which  was  kindled  was  as  dry  as  a 
bone. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  steak  had  been  done  to 
a  turn,  and  they  sat  down  to  eat  it.  It  was  certainly  a 
most  informal  meal,  without  plates  or  platter,  and  only 
Dick's  pocket  knife  to  cut  the  steak  with.  Yet  neither 
had  ever  enjoyed  a  repast  more.  Having  finished,  they 
procured  a  drink  at  a  flowing  stream  behind  them,  and 
then  Dick  cut  off  a  chunk  of  the  bear  meat,  wrapped 
it  in  a  bit  of  skin  and  slung  it  over  his  shoulder. 

''We  may  want  another  meal  of  it  before  we  reach 
civilization,"  he  explained,  "Nothing  like  preparing 
one's  self,  when  we  have  the  chance." 

"It's  a  shame  to  leave  such  a  beautiful  bear  skin 
robe  behind,"  answered  Nellie.  "But  I  suppose  it  can 
not  be  helped.  Oh,  if  only  we  were  safe  once  more." 

Again  they  set  off  on  their  weary  tramp  northward, 
and  thus  nearly  two  miles  were  covered.  The  sun  was 
now  coming  out  strongly,  and  Dick  saw  that  his  fair 
companion  was  beginning  to  grow  tired. 

"We  will  rest  a  little,  Nellie,"  he  said,  "I  think  per 
haps  we  can  afford  to  take  it  easy  now." 

"I  am  so  fearful  that  Indian  is  following  us!"  an 
swered  the  girl  with  a  shudder.  "If  he  should  find 
that  bear,  and —  Oh,  Dick,  look !" 

Nellie  leaped  to  her  feet  from  the  seat  she  had  just 


l88  THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

taken,  and  pointed  behind  her.  Dick  gave  one  look 
and  his  heart  sank  within  him.  Yellow  Elk  was  bear 
ing  down  upon  them  as  swiftly  as  his  long  legs  would 
permit ! 

In  his  hand  the  Indian  chief  carried  a  gun,  and  as 
Nellie  arose  he  caught  sight  of  the  pair  and  pointed 
the  weapon  at  Dick's  head. 

"White  boy  throw  down  pistol !"  he  called  out,  when 
within  speaking  distance. 

"Let  Yellow  Elk  throw  down  his  gun,"  answered 
Dick.  His  pistol  was  up  and  now  he  shoved  Nellie 
behind  him. 

"White  boy  fool — cannot  shoot  against  Yellow  Elk," 
growled  the  redskin.  He  had  been  following  their 
trail  since  sun-up  and  was  somewhat  winded. 

"Perhaps  I  can  shoot.  Did  you  see  that  bear  I 
brought  down?"  rejoined  Dick. 

At  this  the  Indian  frowned. 

"Bear  must  have  been  sick — white  boy  no  bring 
game  down  like  that  if  well — too  powerful." 

"I  brought  him  down  and  I'll  bring  you  down  if 
you  don't  stop  where  you  are,"  was  the  steady  answer. 

"Oh,  Dick,  he'll  shoot  you,"  whispered  Nellie.  She 
wanted  to  get  before  him,  but  he  would  not  allow  it. 

By  this  time  Yellow  Elk  had  arrived  to  within  a 


THE  SOLDIERS  AGAIN  189 

dozen  steps  of  them.     Now  he  stopped  and  the  frown 
upon  his  ugly  countenance  deepened. 

"Did  white  boy  hear  what  Yellow  Elk  said  ?" 

"I  did." 

"Does  white  boy  want  to  die?" 

"Does  Yellow  Elk  want  to  die?  I  can  shoot  as 
straight  as  you." 

The  words  had  scarcely  left  Dick's  mouth  than 
there  came  a  clear  click. 

The  redskin  had  fired  point-blank  at  the  lad,  but  the 
gun  had  failed  to  go  off,  the  weapon  being  an  old  one 
the  Indian  had  found  at  the  fort— a  gun  some  soldier 
had  discarded  as  useless. 

Following  the  click  Nellie  uttered  a  scream.  Then 
came  a  crack  as  Dick  fired,  and  Yellow  Elk  uttered  a 
yell  of  pain,  having  received  a  painful  wound  in  the 
side. 

With  clubbed  gun  the  Indian  now  rushed  in  and  a 
hand-to-hand  struggle  followed.  Dick  fought  val 
iantly,  but  was  no  match  for  the  tall  redskin,  and  a 
well-directed  blow  laid  him  senseless  upon  the  prairie 
grass.  "You  have  killed  him !"  screamed  Nellie.  She 
was  about  to  kneel  at  Dick's  side,  when  Yellow  Elk 
hauled  her  back. 

"White  dove  come  with  me— boy  no  killed— be  right 
by-an-by,"  said  the  redskin. 


IQO  THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

"I  will  not  go  with  you!"  she  gasped.  "Let  me 
down !"  for  Yellow  Elk  had  raised  her  up  to  his  broad 
shoulder. 

The  redskin  merely  smiled  grimly  and  set  off  on  a 
swift  walk,  which  speedily  took  both  Nellie  and  him 
self  out  of  sight  of  poor  Dick. 

The  girl's  heart  was  almost  broken  by  this  swift 
turn  of  affairs.  She  had  hoped  in  a  few  more  hours 
to  be  safe  among  her  friends,  and  here  she  was  once 
again  the  captive  of  the  Indian  she  so  much  feared. 

On  and  on  kept  Yellow  Elk  until  the  stream  was 
reached  upon  which  was  located  the  log  cabin  where 
Nellie  had  been  a  prisoner.  She  wondered  if  Yellow 
Elk  was  going  to  take  her  there  again,  but  she  asked 
no  questions. 

Presently  the  Indian  chief  came  to  a  sudden  halt  and 
raised  his  head  as  if  to  listen.  Nellie  listened,  too,  and 
at  a  distance  heard  the  tramp  of  several  men.  At 

once  Yellow  Elk  darted  behind  a  number  of  bushes. 

• 

"White  girl  make  noise  Yellow  Elk  kill !"  he  hissed 
into  his  fair  captive's  ear,  and  drew  his  hunting  knife. 

The  tramp  of  feet  came  closer.  A  detachment  of 
foot  soldiers  were  moving  through  the  woods.  Soon 
they  came  within  sight  of  the  pair. 

As  they  came  closer  Nellie  saw  they  were  Govern- 


THE  SOLDIERS  AGAIN  19! 

ment  troops.    A  prisoner  was  between  them — a  man. 
It  was  Jack  Rasco. 

"Uncle  Jack!"  she  moaned,  when  Yellow  Elk 
clapped  his  hand  over  her  mouth  and  pointed  the  hunt 
ing  knife  at  her  throat. 

"Hush !"  he  commanded,  but  this  was  unnecessary, 
for  the  discovery  and  her  great  fear  had  caused  Nellie 
to  swoon.  She  fell  back,  and  for  a  long  while  she 
knew  no  more. 

In  the  meantime  Dick  had  slowly  recovered  con 
sciousness.  The  blow  had  been  a  fearful  one,  and  long 
after  he  sat  up  he  was  unable  to  rise  to  his  feet,  so 
shaky  was  he  in  the  legs.  Slowly  the  realization  of 
what  had  occurred  came  back  to  him. 

"Gone— poor  Nellie!"  he  gasped,  and  braced  him 
self  as  best  he  could.  Gazing  around  he  saw  that 
neither  girl  nor  redskin  was  in  sight.  Without  delay 
he  started  to  search  for  Yellow  Elk's  trail. 

He  was  loping  along  over  the  prairies  when  a  shout 
from  his  left  struck  upon  his  ears.  As  he  gazed  in 
the  direction  he  beheld  a  number  of  soldiers  swooping 
down  upon  him.  These  were  the  men  who  had  Jack 
Rasco  a  prisoner,  the  cavalrymen  having  turned  the 
man  of  the  plains  over  to  them.  In  a  moment  Dick 
was  surrounded. 


IQ2  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

"Jack!"  cried  the  youth,  and  rushed  up  to  Rasco. 
"What  does  this  mean?" 

"It  means  I'm  a  prisoner,"  answered  Rasco,  sadly. 
"Have  you  seen  anything  of  Nellie?" 

In  a  moment  Dick  had  told  his  story,  to  which  the 
soldiers  as  well  as  Rasco  listened  closely.  At  once 
several  of  the  guard  were  sent  off  to  hunt  up  the  red 
skin,  if  it  were  possible  to  do  so.  Rasco  wanted  to  go 
along,  but  his  request  was  refused. 

"You'll  slip  us  if  you  get  the  chance,"  said  the  officer 
in  charge.  "You'll  go  to  the  fort.  And  I  fancy  the 
boy  will  go,  too,  since  he  seems  to  belong  to  the 
boomers." 

And  against  his  earnest  protestations  Dick  was  made 
to  accompany  the  soldiers,  being  bound  hand  to  hand 
with  the  man  of  the  plains. 

An  hour  later  the  soldiers'  camp  was  reached,  and 
Rasco  and  Dick  were  placed  in  a  temporary  guard 
house.  They  had  been  there  but  a  short  while  when  a 
visitor  entered.  It  was— Louis  Vorlange! 

"So  they  have  you  safe,  I  see,"  began  Vorlange, 
when  Rasco  sprang  at  him  and  knocked  him  down. 

"Will  you  make  my  niece  a  prisoner,"  he  cried, 
wrathfully,  for  Dick  had  told  him  the  story.  "You 
dirty  spy!" 

"Hold   up,"   gasped   Vorlange,    his    face   growing 


THE  SOLDIERS  AGAIN  193 

white.  "Rasco,  don't  be  a  fool.  I — I — made  her  a 
prisoner  because  I  have  orders  to  arrest  anybody  found 
roaming  around " 

"I  won't  argy  the  p'int!"  roared  Rasco.  "I  know 
you,  Vorlange,  and  so  does  Dick  here.  You  robbed 
and  nearly  murdered  thet  boy's  father !" 

At  these  words  Vorlange  staggered  back  as  though 
struck  a  blow. 

-Who  says  I— I  did  that?"  he  faltered. 

"I  say  so." 

"And  so  do. I,"  put  in  Dick,  boldly.  "We'll  have  a 
nice  story  to  tell  when  we  are  brought  out  for  exam 
ination,  I'll  tell  you  that." 

Vorlange  breathed  hard  and  glared  from  one  to  the 
other.  Then  of  a  sudden  he  caught  Dick  by  the  arm 
and  turned  him  to  one  side. 

"Boy,  beware  how  you  cross  me,"  he  hissed  into 
Dick's  ears.  "Beware,  I  say!  I  have  known  your 
father  for  years,  and  I  have  the  knowledge  in  my  pos 
session  which  can  send  your  father  to  the  gallows." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

CHASED   BY    CAVALRY. 

"Checkmated  !    By  jove,  but  this  is  too  bad." 

Such  were  the  words  which  issued  from  Pawnee 
Brown's  lip  as  he  swung  around  and  saw  the  cavalry 
men  sitting  on  their  horses  at  attention. 

His  disappointment  was  keen.  In  speaking  of  it 
afterwards  he  said : 

"I  never  felt  so  bad  in  my  life.  I  had  promised  to 
take  the  boomers  through  and  I  felt  that  I  had  dis 
appointed  nearly  four  thousand  people  who  were  look 
ing  to  me  with  utmost  confidence." 

But  disappointment  was  not  the  worst  of  it.  Hardly 
had  the  command  to  halt  been  issued  than  the  captain 
of  the  troops  advanced  toward  the  scout. 

"Pawnee  Brown!"  he  ejaculated,  in  surprise,  and  a 
smile  of  satisfaction  crossed  his  face.  "This  is  a  great 
pleasure." 

"Is  it?"  answered  the  great  scout,  coldly. 

"It  is  indeed.  Do  you  intend  to  throw  up  your 
hands?" 

'194) 


CHASED  BY  CAVALRY  IQ5 

For  the  scout's  hands  had  not  yet  been  lifted  sky 
ward. 

"This  looks  as  if  you  meant  to  arrest  me,  captain." 

"Why  shouldn't  I?  You  are  at  the  head  of  the 
Kansas  boomers,  are  you  not?" 

"I  have  that  honor,  yes." 

"It's  a  question  to  me  if  it  is  an  honor.  You  are 
transgressing  the  laws  of  the  United  States  when  you 
try  to  get  into  Oklahoma  for  homestead  purposes." 

"Say  rather  that  we  transgress  the  laws  of  the  cattle 
kings,  captain.  Under  the  U.  S.  Homestead  Law  we 
have  a  perfect  right  to  this  land,  if  we  can  get  in  and 
stake  our  claims,  and  you  know  it." 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  sort.  This  talk  about  the 
cattle  kings  is  all  nonsense !"  roared  the  cavalry  officer, 
He  knew  Pawnee  Brown  was  more  than  half  right,  but 
felt  he  must  obey  the  orders  he  had  received  from  his 
superiors.  "I'll  have  to  take  you  to  the  fort." 

"All  right,  take  me — if  you  can,  captain,"  came  the 
quick  answer.  "Don't  you  dare  fire  on  me,  for  you 
know  I  am  a  crack  shot  and  I  promise  I'll  fire  on  you 
in  return  and  lay  you  low!" 

Thus  speaking,  the  boomer  wheeled  about  and  sent 
Bonnie  Bird  off  like  a  shot  along  the  trail  he  had  come. 

The  movement  was  so  quick  that  for  the  moment  the 
Cavalry  'officer  was  paralyzed  and  knew  not  what  to 


196  THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

do.  He  raised  his  long  pistol,  but  Pawnee  Brown's 
stern  threat  rang  in  his  ears  and  he  hesitated  about 
using  the  weapon,  having  no  desire  to  be  laid  low. 

"After  him,  men!"  he  roared,  upon  recovering  his 
wits.  "We  must  capture  him !" 

"Shall  we  fire,  cap'n?"  came  from  several,  and  a 
number  of  shining  pistol  barrels  were  levelled  toward 
the  great  scout. 

"N — no,  capture  him  alive,"  came  the  hesitating 
reply;  and  away  went  the  calvarymen  at  a  breakneck 
speed  in  pursuit. 

Looking  back  over  his  shoulder,  Pawnee  saw  them 
coming.  To  lessen  the  chances  of  being  shot,  he  bent 
low  over  his  faithful  mare's  neck. 

"On,  Bonnie,  on !"  he  cried  softly,  and  the  beautiful 
animal  seemed  to  understand  that  it  was  a  race  for  life 
and  death. 

"Crack !"  It  was  the  report  of  a  pistol  close  at  hand. 
Looking  among  the  trees,  Pawnee  Brown  saw  an  arm 
wearing  the  colors  of  a  cavalryman  disappearing 
among  the  foliage  of  a  nearby  tree.  He  aimed  his  own 
weapon  and  pulled  the  trigger.  A  yell  of  pain  fol 
lowed. 

The  marksman  had  been  Tucker,  the  fellow  hired 
to  take  the  great  scout's  life.  Tucker  had  been  on 
picket  duty  for  the  cavalry  troop,  but  had  failed  to 


CHASED  BY  CAVALRY  IQ7 

note  Pawnee  Brown's  first  movement  in  that  direction. 
Seeing  the  scout  coming,  he  had  instantly  thought  of 
the  promised  reward  and  taken  aim.  The  bullet  had 
struck  Pawnee  Brown's  shoulder,  merely,  however, 
scraping  the  skin.  On  the  return  fire  Tucker  was  hit 
in  the  side  and  nearly  broke  his  neck  in  a  tumble  back 
ward  into  a  hole  behind  him. 

The  chase  was  not  of  long  duration.  Although 
they  had  good  steeds,  not  one  of  the  cavalrymen's 
horses  could  gain  upon  the  scout's  sturdy  racing  mare, 
and  soon  they  dropped  further  and  further  behind. 
Seeing  this,  Pawnee  Brown  turned  to  the  eastward, 
out  of  the  ravine,  and  in  three  minutes  had  his  pur 
suers  entirely  off  the  trail. 

His  face  grew  thoughtful  as  he  allowed  Bonnie  Bird 
to  drop  into  a  walk.  The  cavalry  had  followed  the 
wagon  train  westward — they  were  bound  to  keep  the 
boomers  in  sight.  What  was  to  be  done?  Should  he 
advise  another  movement  during  the  night  to  come 
and  then  a  forward  dash  ? 

"We  might  make  it,"  he  mused.  "But  if  we  did  not 
there  would  be  a  fearful  fight  and  possibly  slaughter. 
I  wish  I  knew  just  how  matters  were  going  at  Wash 
ington." 

Pawnee  Brown  had  friends  at  the  Capital,  men  who 
were  doing  their  best  to  defeat  the  cattle  kings  by 


198  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

having  a  bill  passed  in  Congress  opening  Oklahoma  to 
settlement — a  .bill  that  would  smooth  the  present  diffi 
culty  for  all  concerned.  He  felt  that  the  bill  was  not 
needed,  yet  it  would  be  better  to  have  such  a  law  than 
to  have  some  of  the  boomers  killed  before  their  rights 
could  be  established. 

'Til  send  a  messenger  off  to  the  nearest  telegraph 
station  and  telegraph  for  the  news,"  he  went  on.  "A 
day's  delay  may  mean  many  lives  saved.  It  shall  never 
be  said  that  Pawnee  Brown  rushed  in,  heedless  of  the 
danger  to  those  who  trusted  in  him. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  scout  reached  the  boomers' 
camp.  Here  he  found  several  waiting  for  him. 

"I  want  to  see  Pawnee  Brown."  It  was  Dan  Gil 
bert,  who  was  making  his  way  through  the  crowd  to 
the  great  scout's  side.  Gilbert  held  a  message  from 
Arkansas  City.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  Pawnee 
Brown  should  telegraph  to  Washington  at  once  and 
wait  until  noon  at  Arkansas  City  for  a  reply. 

Five  minutes  later  Pawnee  Brown  was.  on  the  trail 
over  which  the  wagon  train  had  journeyed  the  night 
before.  He  had  told  Gilbert,  Clemmer  and  the  others 
of  the  nearness  of  the  Government  cavalrymen  and 
had  advised  a  halt  until  further  orders  from  himself. 
Clemmer  had  promised  to  wait,  although  ready  "ter 


CHASED  BY  CAVALRY  199 

swoop  down  on  'em,  b'  gosh,  an'  take  wot  belongs  ter 
us,"  as  he  expressed  himself. 

The  ride  back  to  Arkansas  City  was  an  uneventful 
one,  and  arriving  there,  Pawnee  Brown  lost  no  time  in 
visiting  the  telegraph  office. 

"A  message  for  you,"  said  the  operator,  and  handed 
it  over. 

It  was  from  Washington  and  stated:  "The  Okla 
homa  bill  is  now  before  the  Lower  House;  wait  for 
more  news." 

"I'm  glad  we've  woke  up  those  politicians  at  Wash 
ington,"  murmured  the  scout,  and  then  wrote  out  a 
telegram  in  reply. 

There  was  now  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait,  and  im 
patient  as  he  was  to  rejoin  the  boomers,  Pawnee  Brown 
had  to  content  himself  until  another  message  should 
reach  him.  To  make  the  time  pass  more  quickly  the 
great  scout  went  around  to  a  number  of  places  buying 
supplies  that  were  much  needed. 

An  hour  later  he  found  himself  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  city,  whence  he  had  come  to  look  up  several 
wagons,  to  replace  some  that  had  broken  down.  He 
was  galloping  along  on  horseback  when  the  sight  of 
two  men  quarreling  near  the  open  doorway  of  a  de 
serted  barn  caught  his  eye,  and  impelled  by  something 
which  was  more  than  curiosity,  he  turned  in  from  the 


200  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

road  to  see  how  the  quarrel  might  end.  As  he  came 
closer  he  saw  that  one  of  the  men  was  Mortimer 
Arbuckle ! 

"Hullo,  what  can  this  mean?"  he  cried,  softly.  "I 
thought  Dick's  father  was  still  in  bed  from  the  effects 
of  that  dastardly  night's  work.  Who  can  that  stranger 
be?" 

Dismounting,  he  tied  Bonnie  Bird  to  a  tree  and 
came  forward,  but  in  line  with  the  barn,  that  he  might 
not  be  seen.  Soon  he  was  within  easy  hearing  distance 
of  all  that  was  being  said. 

"I  want  to  know  what  brought  you  out  here,  Dike 
Powell?"  he  heard  Mr.  Arbuckle  say  in  excited  tones. 
"Did  you  follow  me?" 

"No,  I  did  not,  Arbuckle,"  came  in  reply.  "What 
makes  you  think  I  did?" 

"I  was  knocked  down  and  robbed  but  a  few  nights 
ago,  and  my  most  valuable  papers,  as  well  as  my 
money,  were  taken  from  me." 

"Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  am  a  thief?"  cried 
Dike  Powell. 

"You  are  none  too  good  for  it.  I  have  not  forgotten 
how  you  used  to  sneak  around  my  office  in  New  York 
after  information  concerning  my  Western  mining 
claims." 

"You're  getting  mighty  sharp,  Arbuckle." 


CHASED  BY  CAVALRY  2OI 

"I  hope  I  am.  I  used  to  feel  queer  in  my  head  at 
times,  but — but — I  think  I  am  growing  better  of  that." 

As  he  spoke  Mortimer  Arbuckle  drew  his  white 
hand  across  his  forehead. 

The  attack  and  the  adventure  on  the  river  had  been 
fearful,  but  it  really  looked  as  if  they  were  going  to 
prove  of  benefit  to  him.  His  eyes  were  brighter  than 
they  had  been  for  many  a  day.  Pawnee  Brown  no 
ticed,  too,  that  his  manner  of  talking  was  more  direct 
than  he  usually  employed. 

"I  .hope  for  the  boy's  sake  his  mind  is  clearing,"  he 
thought. 

"I  think  you  are  growing  more  queer — to  accuse 
me,"  said  Dike  Powell.  "I  never  harmed  you." 

"I  know  better.  While  I  was  on  my  back  I  thought 
it  all  over.  Dike  Powell,  you  are  a  villain,  and  if  ever 
I  get  the  chance  I'll  turn  you  over  to  the  police.  You 
have  followed  me  to  the  West,  and  for  no  good  pur 
pose.  I  will  unmask  you." 

"Will  you?    Not  much!" 

Thus  speaking,  Dike  Powell  leaped  forward.  He 
was  a  powerful  man,  and  catching  Mortimer  Arbuckle 
by  the  throat,  he  would  have  borne  the  semi-invalid  to 
the  floor  had  not  Pawnee  Brown  interfered. 

There  was  a  rush  and  a  crack,  as  the  scout's  fist  met 
Dike  Powell's  ear,  and  over  the  man  rolled,  to  bring 
up  against  the  side  of  the  barn  with  a  crash. 


i 
2O2  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

"Who — who  hit  me?"  spluttered  the  rascal,  as,  half 
dazed,  he  staggered  to  his  feet.  "If  I — Pawnee 
Brown !" 

''Dike  Powell!"  ejaculated  the  scout,  as  he  saw  the 
fellow  full  in  the  face  for  the  first  time.  "Where  have 
you  been  these  long  years?" 

"Oh,  Pawnee,  how  glad  I  am  that  you  came  in," 
panted  Mortimer  Arbuckle,  sinking  down  upon  an  old 
feed  box.  "The  villain  was — was " 

"I  saw  it  all,  Arbuckle;  rest  yourself.  I  will  take 
care  of  this  forger." 

"Forger!"  came  simultaneously  from  Mortimer 
Arbuckle  and  from  his  assailant,  but  in  different  tones 
of  voice.  "Do  you  then  know  Dike  Powell?" 

"Yes,  I  know  him  as  Powell  Dike,  a  forger,  who  fled 
from  Peoria  a  dozen  years  ago.  And  what  do  you 
know  of  him  ?" 

"I  know  him  as  a  Wall  street  sneak — a  man  who 
was  forever  hanging  around,  trying  to  get  information 
out  of  which  he  might  make  a  few  dollars.  I  have 
accused  him  of  following  me  to  the  West.  I  am  in 
clined  to  think  he  robbed  me " 

"I  did  not,"  ejaculated  Powell  Dike,  for  such  really 
was  his  name. 

"I  believe  you,"  replied  Pawnee  Brown.  He  had 
spoken  to  Dick  and  Rasco  of  this  man.  "But  you 


CHASED  BY  CAVALRY  203 

know  who  did  rob  Mortimer  Arbuckle,"  he  went  on, 
significantly. 

"I— I— do  not,"  answered  Powell  Dike,  but  his  lips 
trembled. 

"You  lie,  Dike.    Now  tell  the  truth." 

Pawnee  Brown  saw  the  manner  of  man  he  had  to 
deal  with  and  tapped  his  pistol.  Instantly  Powell  Dike 
fell  upon  his  knees. 

"Don't— don't  shoot  me I"  he  whined.  "I'll  tell  all— 
everything.  I  am  not  dead  positive,  but— but  I  guess 
Louis  Vorlange  robbed  Arbuckle." 

Pawnee  Brown  looked  at  Mortimer  Arbuckle  to  see 
what  effect  this  declaration  might  have  upon  Dick's 
father.  He  saw  the  ex-stock  broker  start  forward  in 
amazement.  Then  he  faltered,  threw  up  his  hands, 
and  fell  forward  in  a  dead  faint! 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

GOOD  NEWS  FROM   WASHINGTON. 

"Fainted,  by  Jove!" 

So  spoke  Pawnee  Brown  as  he  sprang  forward  to 
Mortimer  Arbuckle's  aid. 

The  man  was  as  pale  as  the  driven  snow,  and  for 
the  instant  the  great  scout  thought  his  very  heart  had 
stopped  beating. 

He  raised  Mortimer  Arbuckle  up  and  opened  his 
collar  and  took  off  his  tie,  that  he  might  get  some  air. 

"Wot's  the  row  here?" 

It  was  the  voice  of  Peter  Day,  the  backwoodsman 
who  had  agreed  to  take  care  of  Arbuckle  during  his 
illness.  He  had  followed  the  man  out  of  the  house  to 
see  that  no  harm  might  befall  him. 

"He  has  fainted,"  answered  Pawnee  Brown.  "Fetch 
some  water,  and  hold  that — hang  it,  he's  gone !" 

Pawnee  Brown  rushed  to  the  barn  door.  Far  away 
he  saw  Powell  Dike  running  as  though  the  old  Nick 
was  after  him.  A  second  later  the  rascal  disappeared 
from  view.  The  boomer  never  saw  or  heard  of  him 
again. 
(204) 


GOOD   NEWS   FROM    WASHINGTON 

Between  the  great  scout  and  Pawnee  Brown,  Morti 
mer  Arbuckle  was  once  again  taken  to  Day's  home 
and  made  comfortable. 

"He  insisted  on  taking  a  walk  to-day,"  explained 
the  backwoodsman.  "I  told  him  he  couldn't  stand  it. 
I  reckon  he's  as  bad  now  as  he  ever  was." 

"Take  good  care  of  him,  Day,  and  beware  of  any 
men  who  may  be  prowling  about,"  answered  Pawnee 
Brown.  "There  is  something  wrong  in  the  air,  but  I'm 
satisfied  that  if  we  help  this  poor  fellow  we'll  be  on 
the  right  side  of  the  brush." 

Mortimer  Arbuckle  was  now  coming  around,  but 
when  he  spoke  he  was  quite  out  of  his  mind.  The 
doctor  was  hastily  sent  for,  and  he  administered  a 
potion  which  speedily  put  the  sufferer  to  sleep. 

"It's  an  odd  case,"  said  the  medical  man.  "The  fel 
low  is  suffering  more  mentally  than  physically.  He 
must  have  something  awful  on  his  mind." 

"He  is  the  victim  of  some  plot — I  am  certain  of  it," 
was  the  scout's  firm  answer. 

Not  long  after  this,  Pawnee  Brown  was  returning  to 
Arkansas  City,  certain  that  Mortimer  Arbuckle  would 
now  be  well  cared  for  and  closely  watched  until  he  and 
Dick  could  return  to  the  sufferer. 

"As  soon  as  this  booming  business  is  over  I  must 
try  to  clear  things  for  that  old  gent."  murmured  the 


2O6  THE  BOY    LAND  BOOMER 

boomer  to  himself  as  he  rode  up  to  the  telegraph  office. 
"I'd  do  a  good  deal  for  him  and  that  noble  son  of  his." 

Another  telegram  had  just  come  in,  by  way  of  Wich 
ita,  which  ran  as  follows  : 

"The  Lower  House  of  Congress  has  passed  the 
Oklahoma  bill.  Pawnee  Brown  has  woke  the  politi 
cians  up  at  last.  Stand  ready  to  enter  Oklahoma  if  an 
attempt  is  made  to  throw  the  bill  aside  in  the  Senate, 
but  don't  be  rash,  as  it  may  not  be  long  before  every 
thing  comes  our  way — in  fact,  it  looks  as  if  everything 
would  come  very  soon." 

At  this  telegram  the  great  scout  was  inclined  to 
throw  up  his  hat  and  give  a  cheer.  His  work  in  Kan 
sas  was  having  an  effect.  No  longer  could  the  cattle 
kings  stand  up  against  the  rights  of  the  people.  He 
handed  the  message  to  a  number  of  his  friends  stand 
ing  near. 

"Hurrah  fer  Pawnee  Brown!"  shouted  one  man, 
and  standing  on  a  soap  box  read  the  telegram  aloud. 

"Score  one  fer  the  boomers !" 

"An'  a  big  one  fer  Pawnee." 

"Don't  hurry  now,  Pawnee,  you've  got  'em  whar 
the  hair  ez  good  an'  long !" 

"It  would  seem  so,  men,"  answered  the  great  scout. 
"No,  I'll  be  careful  now — since  the  tide  has  turned. 
In  less  than  sixty  days  I'll  wager  all  I  am  worth  we'll 


GOOD   NEWS   FROM    WASHINGTON  2O7 

march  into  Oklahoma  without  the  first  sign  of  trouble." 

It  did  not  take  the  news  long  to  travel  to  the  boom 
ers'  camp,  and  great  was  the  rejoicing  upon  every  side. 

"Dot's  der  pest  ding  I  vos  hear  for  a  month,"  said 
Humpendinck.  "Pawnee  ought  to  haf  a  medal  al- 
reatty." 

"It's  a  stattoo  we  will  put  up  fer  him  in  Oklahomy," 
said  Delaney.  "A  stattoo  wid  Pawnee  a-ridin'  loike 
mad  to  the  new  lands,  wid  the  Homestead  act  in  wan 
hand  an'  a  bundle  o'  sthakes  in  th'  other,  an'  under  the 
stattoo  we'll  put  the  wurruds,  Tawnee  Brown,  the  St. 
Patrick  av  Oklahomy !'  " 

"Ach!  go  on  mit  yer  St.  Patrick!"  howled  Humpen 
dinck.  "He  vos  noddings  but  a  snake  killer." 

"Oh,  mon !"  burst  in  Rosy  Delaney.  "A  snake  killer, 
Moike,  do  ye  moind  thot?  Swat  the  Dootchman  wan, 
quick !" 

And  Mike  "swatted"  with  an  end  of  a  fence  rail  he 
was  chopping  up  for  firewood.  But  Humpendinck 
dodged,  and  Rosy  caught  the  blow,  and  there  followed 
a  lively  row  between  her  and  Mike,  in  the  midst  of 
which  the  German  boomer  sneaked  away. 

"Dot  Irishmans  vos  so  fiery  as  der  hair  mit  his  head," 
he  muttered  to  himself.  "I  dink  I  vos  keep  out  of 
sight  bis  he  vos  cool  off,  and  den —  Mine  gracious, 
Bumpkin,  var  did  you  come  from  ?  I  dinks  you  vos  left 
behind  py  Arkansas  City." 


2O8  THE    BOY    LAND    BOOMER 

For  there  had  suddenly  appeared  before  Humpen- 
dinck  the  form  of  the  dunce,  hatless  and  with  his  black 
hair  tumbled  over  his  face  in  all  directions. 

"Ha,  ha!  where  have  I  been?"  cried  Pumpkin. 
"Where  haven't  I  been  you  had  better  ask.  I've 
been  everywhere — among  the  soldiers  and  the  boomers 
and  the  Indians."  He  stopped  short.  "Where  is 
Pawnee  Brown?" 

"Ofer  py  Clemmer's  vagon.  But  he  ton't  vot  ter 
pother  mit  you  now." 

"He  will  bother  with  me,"  and  so  speaking  Pumpkin 
ran  off,  to  reach  the  great  scout's  side  and  pluck  him 
by  the  coat  sleeve. 

"At  your  service,  sir,"  he  said,  bowing  low,  for  with 
all  of  his  peculiarities  Pumpkin  had  a  great  respect  for 
Pawnee  Brown. 

"What  is  it,  lad?" 

"I  have  to  report,  sir,  that  your  pard  is  captured— 
Jack  Rasco;  he  had  a  fearful  fight  and  the  soldiers 
have  him.'  Ha!  ha!  they  will  shoot  Jack — if  you  let 
'em,  but  I  know  you  won't — will  you  now?" 

"You  are  certain  Jack  is  captured?" 

"Dead  sure — saw  him  with  my  own  eyes.  Ha!  ha! 
they  tried  to  catch  Pumpkin,  but  they  might  as  well  try 
to  catch  a  ghost.  Ha !  ha !  but  I  give  'em  a  fine  run." 

It  took  a  good  deal  of  talking  to  get  a  straight  s-tory 


GOOD   NEWS   FROM    WASHINGTON  2OO, 

from  the  half-witted  youth,  but  at  last  Pawnee  Brown 
was  in  full  possession  of  the  facts.  Pumpkin  had  seen 
Rasco  on  the  march  just  before  Dick  was  taken. 

Immediately  after  this  the  boomer  held  a  short  con 
sultation  with  Clemmer. 

"I  feel  it  my  duty  to  help  Rasco  to  escape,  if  it  can 
be  done,"  he  said.  "Besides,  it  is  high  time  for  me  to 
return  to  Dick  Arbuckle  and  to  find  out,  if  possible, 
what  has  become  of  Jack's  niece." 

"Shall  I  go  along?"  questioned  Clemmer,  "I 
wouldn't  like  anything  better." 

"All  right,  come  on,"  answered  the  great  scout. 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  when  a  loud  cry  rang  out, 
coming  from  the  lower  end  of  the  camp. 

"Buckley's  bull  has  broken  loose!  Look  out  for 
yourself,  the  beast  has  gone  mad !" 

"Buckley's  bull!"  muttered  Pawnee  Brown.  "I 
ordered  him  to  slaughter  that  vicious  beast.  Why,  he's 
as  fierce  as  those  the  Mexicans  use  in  their  bull  fights !" 

"He's  a  terror,"  answered  Clemmer.  "If  he —  By 
gum,  here  he  comes,  Pawnee !" 

As  he  spoke  Clemmer  turned  to  one  side  and  started 
to  run.  Looking  forward  the  great  scout  saw  the  bull 
bearing  down  upon  him.  The  eyes  of  the  creature 
were  bloodshot  and  the  foam  was  dripping  from  the 


2IO  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

corners  of  his  mouth,  showing  that  he  was  clearly  be 
yond  control. 

The  bull,  which  was  of  extra  large  size,  had  Clem- 
mer  in  view,  and  made  after  the  cowboy,  who  happened 
to  be  unarmed.  Away  went  man  and  beast  in  some 
thing  of  a  circle,  to  fetch  up  near  Pawnee  Brown  less 
than  a  minute  later.  As  they  came  close,  Clemmer  fell 
and  went  sprawling  almost  at  the  scout's  feet. 
"Save  me!"  he  panted.  "Save  me,  Pawnee!" 
Pawnee  Brown  did  not  answer.  Leaping  over  the 
cowboy's  prostrate  form,  he  pulled  out  his  pistol  and 
his  hunting  knife  and  stood  ready  to  receive  the  bull, 
who  came  tearing  along,  with  lowered  horns,  ready 
to  charge  the  scout  to  the  death. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  BOOMER  AND  THE  BULL. 

For  the  moment  it  looked  as  if  Pawnee  Brown  meant 
to  let  the  mad  bull  gore  him  to  pieces. 

On  and  on  came  the  beast  until  less  than  two  yards 
separated  him  and  the  great  scout. 

Crack !  came  the  report  of  the  boomer's  pistol,  and 
the  bull  fell  back  a  pace,  clipped  between  the  horns. 
A  lucky  swerve  downward  had  saved  him  from  a  bullet 
wound  through  the  eye. 

There  was  no  time  for  another  shot.  With  a  bellow 
the  bull  leaped  the  intervening  space  and  landed  almost 
on  top  of  Pawnee  Brown ! 

A  yell  went  up  from  those  who  saw  the  movement. 
"Pawnee  is  done  fur.     The  bull  will  rip  him  inside 
out." 

"Buckley  ought  to  have  killed  that  bull  long  ago— 
that's  the  second  time  he's  gone  on  a  rampage." 
"Somebody  shoot  him  and  save  Pawnee!" 
The  last  was  a  well  meant  cry,  but  a  shot  could  not 
be  thought  of,  for  man  and  beast  were  too  close  to 
gether. 

(211) 


212  THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

But  Pawnee  Brown  was  not  yet  defeated.  He  still 
held  his  trusty  hunting  knife,  and  he  was  not  terror 
ized  as  some  of  the  onlookers  imagined. 

A  few  words  will  explain  the  cause.  In  his  day  the 
scout  had  visited  Mexico  more  than  once,  and  while 
there  had  participated  in  more  than  one  bull  fight,  on 
one  occason  defeating  a  celebrated  Mexican  fighter  and 
gaining  a  handsome  prize. 

As  the  mad  bull  charged,  the  scout  leaped  like  light 
ning  to  one  side,  and  drove  the  hunting  knife  up  to  the 
hilt  into  the  beast's  throat. 

There  was  a  spurt  of  blood,  a  bellow  of  pain,  and 
the  bull  staggered  back  several  steps. 

He  was  badly  wounded,  but  by  no  means  out  of 
the  fight,  as  his  glaring  eyes  still  showed.  He  shook 
his  head  vigorously,  then  charged  again. 

Once  more  the  knife  went  up  and  came  down,  this 
time  just  below  the  beast's  ear.  A  fearful  bellow  came 
after  the  stroke.  Before  the  bull  could  retire,  the  knife 
was  withdrawn  and  plunged  in  a  third  and  last  time. 
This  third  stroke  wound  up  the  encounter,  for  limping 
to  one  side  the  bull  fell  forward  upon  his  knees,  gave 
a  kick  or  two  with  his  hind  legs,  and  rolled  over  on  the 
prairie  grass,  dead. 

"Hurrah !   Pawnee  has  killed  him." 

"Talk  about  yer  bull  fighters !  They  ain't  in  it  with 
Pawnee!" 


THE  BOOMER  AND  THE  BULL  21 3 

"Yer  saved  my  life,"  exclaimed  Clemmer,  who  had 
risen.  "I  shan't  forget  yer,  Pawnee/'  and  he  held  out 
his  broad  hand  for  a  shake. 

The  bull  dead,  Pawnee  Brown  called  Buckley  up 
and  gave  him  a  lecture  for  not  having  killed  the  vicious 
beast  long  ago. 

"You  have  no  business  to  bring  such  a  bull  into  camp 
in  the  first  place,  Buckley,"  he  said.  "Be  more  care 
ful  in  the  future,  or  you'll  have  to  get  out,  bag  and 
baggage.  That  bull  might  have  killed  half  a  dozen 
people  had  he  charged  the  crowd." 

A  short  while  after  this  the  great  scout  and  Clemmer 
set  off  from  Honnewell  along  the  ravine  in  search  of 
Dick,  Rasco  and  Nellie  Winthrop.  The  cheering  news 
from  Washington  had  set  Pawnee  Brown  at  rest  so 
far  as  his  duty  to  the  boomers  was  concerned,  and  he 
felt  quite  free  to  pursue  his  own  affairs  and  those  of 
his  immediate  friends. 

"If  possible  I  would  like  to  meet  Louis  Vorlange 
and  have  a  talk  with  him,"  he  said  to  Clemner,  after 
having  related  what  had  occurred  near  Peter  Day's 
home.  "I  think  that  spy  can  clear  up  much  of  this 
mystery  concerning  Mortimer  Arbuckle,  if  he  will." 

"It  ain't  likely  he'll  open  his  trap,"  answered  Clem 
mer.  "By  doin'  thet  he'd  only  be  gettin'  himself  in 
hot  water." 


214  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

"We'll  make  him  speak,"  was  Pawnee  Brown's  grim 
response. 

An  hour  of  hard  riding  brought  them  to  the  spot 
where  Dick  had  been  left.  Not  a  single  trace  of  the 
lad  could  be  found.  Both  men  looked  blank. 

"Bet  he's  wandered  off  and  got  lost,"  said  Clemmer, 
and  Pawnee  Brown  nodded. 

"We'll  strike  off  eastward,  Cal,  and  see  if  we  can't 
find  some  trace  of  him.  It  is  no  use  of  going  west 
ward.  If  he  had  gone  that  way,  he  would  have  reached 
the  ravine  and  come  up  into  Kansas." 

Once  again  they  set  off.  An  hour  was  spent  here 
and  there,  when  suddenly  Clemmer  uttered  a  cry. 

"Been  a  struggle  hyer,  Pawnee.  See  them  foot 
prints  ?" 

"Three  people,"  answered  the  scout,  making  an  in 
spection.  "A  boy,  a  girl  or  a  woman,  and  an  Indian. 
Can  they  have  been  Dick,  Nellie  Winthrop  and  Yellow 
Elk?  Hang  me  if  it  doesn't  look  like  it." 

"Hyer's  where  the  trail  leads  off,"  said  Clemmer. 
"And  that's  the  boy's.  Can't  see  nuthin'  o'  the  gal's." 

"That  means  the  Indian  carried  her  off,"  ejaculated 
Pawnee  Brown.  "Let  us  follow  his  trail  without 
delay." 

"But  the  boy's?" 

"You  follow  that,  and  I'll  follow  the  redskin.  If 
he  had  the  girl  I  want  to  know  it." 


THE  BOOMER  AND  THE  BULL  215 

A  few  words  more  and  they  separated.  Pawnee 
Brown  was  on  his  mettle  and  followed  Yellow  Elk's 
trail  with  all  the  keenness  of  an  Indian  himself.  In 
half  an  hour  he  had  reached  the  brook.  Here  he  came 
to  a  series  of  rocks  and  was  forced  to  come  to  a  halt. 

But  not  for  long.  Fording  the  water-course,  he 
began  a  search  which  speedily  revealed  the  trail  again, 
leading  to  a  small  river  a  quarter  of  a  mile  further  on! 

He  followed  the  river  for  less  than  fifty  feet,  when 
a  number  of  voices  broke  upon  his  ears. 

"I'm  sure  I  saw  the  redskin  on  the  river,  and  he 
had  a  girl  with  him,  Ross." 

"You  must  have  been  dreaming,  Tucker.  No  red 
skins  up  here." 

"All  right,  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about." 

"I  think  I  saw  something,  too,"  said  a  third  voice, 
that  of  Skimmy,  the  calvaryman. 

The  three  calvarymen  were  out  on  a  scouting  expe 
dition,  to  learn  if  the  boomers  were  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  river. 

Tucker  especially  was  on  the  lookout  for  Pawnee 
Brown,  determined  to  bring  the  great  scout  down  and 
thus  win  the  reward  Louis  Vorlange  had  promised. 

The  scout  listened  to  the  talk  of  the  cavalrymen  for 
fully  ten  minutes  with  great  interest. 

He  had  just  started  to  move  on,  satisfied  that  it 
would  be  of  no  benefit  to  remain  longer,  when  Tucker 


2l6  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

turned  and  walked  his  horse  directly  toward  the  spot 
where  he  was  concealed. 

"A  boomer  behind  the  brush !"  shouted  the  cavalry 
man.  "Come,  boys,  and  take  him !" 

Immediately  there  was  a  rush,  and  Pawnee  Brown 
was  surrounded.  He  had  his  pistol  out  and  in  return 
came  the  weapons  of  the  trio. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  you  seem  to  want  to  make  me 
your  prisoner,"  said  the  scout,  coolly. 

"Thet's  wot,"  cried  Ross.     "Eh,  Tucker?" 

To  make  Pawnee  Brown  a  prisoner  would  be  of  no 
personal  benefit  to  him. 

"You  seem  to  bear  me  a  grudge,"  said  the  boomer, 
eyeing  him  sharply. 

Tucker  could  not  stand  that  gaze  and  his  eyes 
dropped. 

"Yes,  you're  a  prisoner,"  said  Ross.  "Let's  bind 
him  up,  Skimmy." 

"Take  that!" 

Pawnee  Brown  leaped  forward  and  hurled  both  Ross 
and  Skimmy  to  the  ground.  Ere  they  could  rise  he 
had  turned  upon  Tucker.  The  tall  calvaryman  had 
his  pistol  cocked,  and  now  he  blazed  away  almost  in 
Pawnee  Brown's  face,  and  then  both  went  down,  with 
the  scout  on  top. 

The  flash  of  the  pistol  had  scorched  the  boomer's 
skin,  but  the  bullet  sung  over  his  head,  missing  him 


THE    BOOMER   AND   THE   BULL  217 

by  less  than  an  inch.  As  he  came  down  upon  Tucker 
he  hit  the  cavalryman  a  terrific  blow  in  the  jaw,  break 
ing  that  member  and  knocking  out  several  teeth. 

"On  him!"  yelled  Skimmy,  and  tried  to  rise.  But 
now  Pawnee  Brown  was  again  up,  and  flung  Skimmy 
on  top  of  Ross.  In  a  moment  more  he  was  running 
along  the  river  bank. 

He  was  almost  out  of  sight,  when  there  came  two 
shots,  from  Ross  and  Skimmy.  Neither  hit  him,  how 
ever,  and  he  continued  on  his  way,  while  the  two 
cavalrymen  turned  back  to  pick  up  Tucker,  who  lay  in 
-a.  heap,  groaning  and  twisting  from  intense  pain.  The 
tall  cavalryman  could  not,  of  course,  talk,  and  his 
wound  was  so  serious  that  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
to  carry  him  to  his  horse,  support  him  in  the  saddle 
and  ride  back  to  the  fort  for  medical  assistance.  It 
was  a  clean  knock-out,  and  one  that  Tucker  had  good 
cause  to  remember  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

It  was  some  time  ere  Pawnee  Brown  struck  the  trail 
of  Yellow  Elk  again,  but  having  once  spotted  it  he  pur 
sued  his  course  with  increased  vigor.  The  trail  led 
along  the  river  to  where  there  was  almost  a  lake.  This 
had  just  been  reached,  when  he  heard  a  scream.  In 
stantly  he  recognized  Nellie  Winthrop's  voice. 

"Thank  heaven  I  came  as  soon  as  I  did,"  he  mur 
mured,  and  dashed  forward  to  the  spot  from  whence 
the  sound  had  proceeded. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THE  LAST  OF  YELLOW  ELK. 

When  Nellie  Winthrop  recovered  sufficiently  to 
realize  what  was  going  on  around  her,  she  found  her 
self  upon  Yellow  Elk's  back,  with  her  hands  tied  to 
gether  at  the  wrists  behind  her. 

Away  went  the  redskin  until  the  vicinity  where  the 
encounter  with  Dick  had  occurred  was  left  far  behind. 

The  brook  crossed,  the  Indian  chief  set  off  for  the 
river.  Not  once  did  he  stop  or  speak  until  a  pond  was 
gained. 

Beyond  the  pond  was  a  shelter  of  trees,  growing  in  a 
circle  which  was  about  fifteen  feet  in  diameter. 
Against  the  trees  the  brush  had  been  piled,  forming  a 
rude  hut. 

Taking  Nellie  inside  of  this  shelter,  Yellow  Elk  de 
posited  her  on  the  ground.  Of  the  cord  which  bound 
her  hands  there  were  several  feet  left,  and  this  end  he 
wound  around  a  tree  and  tied  fast. 

"Now  white  girl  no  run  away,"  he  grinned.  "Stay 
here  now  until  Yellow  Elk  ready  to  let  her  go." 

To  this  she  made  no  answer,  for  what  would  be  the 
(218) 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  YELLOW  ELK 

use  of  talking  to  such  a  fierce  creature  ?     She  looked 
at  his. hideously  painted  face  and  shivered. 

Yellow  Elk  now  went  off,  to  be  gone  a  long  while. 
When  he  came  back  he  found  her  so  tired  she  could 
scarcely  stand  beside  the  tree.  She  had  tried  to  free 
herself  from  her  bonds  but  failed,  and  a  tiny  stream  of 
blood  was  running  from  one  of  her  tender  wrists. 

"Yellow  Elk  got  horse  now,"  said  the  redskin.    "We 
ride  now — go  many  miles." 
"Where  to  ?"  she  faltered. 
"Never  mind  where — white  girl  come  on." 
Yellow  Elk's  manner  was  so  fierce  she  was  fright 
ened  more  than  ever.     The  Indian  had  stolen  a  horse 
and  he  had  also  stolen  a  lot  of  "fire-water,"  and  this 
drink  was  beginning  to  make  him  ugly.    He  drew  out 
his  hunting  knife. 

"White  girl  got  to  become  Yellow  Elk's  squaw !"  he 
cried,  brandishing  the  knife  before  her  face.  "No 
marry  Yellow  Elk  me  cut  out  her  heart  wid  dis !" 

At  this  Nellie  gave  a  shriek  and  it  was  this  which 
was  borne  to  the  ears  of  Pawnee  Brown. 

"Crying  do  white  girl  no  good,"  growled  the  red 
skin.  "Come  with  me." 

"I  will  not  go  another  foot,"  and  Nellie  began  to 
struggle.  The  Indian  chief  upbraided  her  roundly  in 
his  own  language  and  ended  by  raising  his  knife  over 
her  once  more. 


220  THE   BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

"Help!"  cried  Nellie,  and  a  moment  later  Pawnee 
Brown  burst  into  view.  A  glance  showed  him  the  true 
situation,  and  without  hesitation  he  fired  at  Yellow 
Elk. 

His  bullet  clipped  across  the  redskin's  chest.  By  this 
time  Yellow  Elk  had  his  own  pistol  out,  and  standing 
erect  he  aimed  straight  for  the  boomer's  heart. 

Nellie  screamed,  and  knowing  nothing  else  to  do, 
gave  the  Indian  a  vigorous  shove  in  the  side,  which 
destroyed  the  aim  and  made  the  bullet  fly  wide  of  the 
mark. 

In  a  second  more  the  two  men  were  at  it  in  a  hand- 
to-hand  encounter  each  trying  his  best  to  get  at  the 
other  with  his  hunting  knife,  being  too  close  together  to 
use  a  pistol.  As  Pawnee  Brown  afterward  said : 

"It  was  Yellow  Elk's  life  or  mine,  and  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  it  should  not  be  mine — I  considered  myself 
worth  a  good  deal  more  than  that  worthless  redskin." 

A  cut  and  a  slash  upon  each  side,  and  the  two  broke. 
Yellow  Elk  had  had  enough  of  the  fight,  and  now  ran 
for  it  in  sudden  fear.  He  did  not  take  to  the  river  shore, 
but  skirted  the  pond  and  began  to  ascend  a  slight  hill, 
beyond  which  was  another  fork  of  the  ravine  which  has 
figured  so  largely  in  our  story. 

"Let  him  go!  he  may  kill  you!"  called  out  Nellie, 
when  she  saw  Pawnee  Brown  start  in  pursuit.  But  the 


In  a  second  more  the  two  men  were  in  a  hand-to-hand 
encounter " 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   YELLOW    ELK  221 

scout  paid  no  attention  to  her.  His  blood  was  up  and 
he  was  determined  to  either  exterminate  Yellow  Elk  or 
bring  him  to  terms. 

The  top  of  the  hill  was  reached.  Yellow  Elk  paused, 
not  knowing  exactly  how  to  proceed.  Looking  back, 
he  saw  Pawnee  Brown  preparing  to  fire  upon  him.  A 
pause,  and  he  attempted  to  leap  down  to  a  ledge  below 
him.  His  foot  caught  in  the  roots  of  a  bush  and  over 
he  went  into  a  deep  hollow  headlong.  There  was  a 
sickening  thud,  a  grunt,  and  all  became  quiet. 

Yellow  Elk  had  paid  the  death  penalty  at  last. 

When  Pawnee  Brown  managed  to  climb  down  to  the 
Indian's  side,  to  make  certain  the  wily  redskin  was  not 
shamming,  he  found  Yellow  Elk  stone  dead,  his  neck 
having  been  completely  broken  by  his  fall.  He  lay  on 
his  back,  his  right  hand  still  clutching  his  bloody  hunt 
ing  knife. 

"Gone  now,"  murmured  the  great  scout.  His  face 
softened  for  an  instant.  "Hang  it  all,  why  must  even 
a  redskin  be  so  all-fired  bad?  If  he  had  wanted  to, 
Yellow  Elk  might  have  made  a  man  of  himself.  I  can't 
stop  to  bury  him,  and  yet Hullo,  what  are  those  pa 
pers  sticking  out  of  his  pocket?" 

The  boomer  had  caught  sight  of  a  large  packet  which 
had  been  concealed  in  Yellow  Elk's  bosom.  He  took 
up  the  packet  and  looked  it  over.  It  consisted  of  half  a 


222  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

dozen  legal-looking  documents  and  twice  that  number 
of  letters,  some  addressed  to  Mortimer  Arbuckle  and 
some  addressed  to  Louis  Vorlange. 

He  read  over  the  letters  and  documents  with  interest. 
Those  of  Dick's  father  related  to  the  mine  in  Colorado 
and  were  evidently  those  stolen  by  Louis  Vorlange 
upon  the  night  of  the  opening  of  this  tale.  The  letters 
belonging  to  the  government  spy  were  epistles  ad 
dressed  to  Vorlange  from  a  former  friend  and  partner 
in  various  shady  transactions.  Of  these  we  will  hear 
more  later. 

"Yellow  Elk  must  have  robbed  Vorlange  of  these," 
mused  the  great  scout,  as  he  rammed  the  packet  in  his 
pocket.  In  this  he  was  right.  Vorlange  had  dropped 
the  packet  by  accident  and  the  Indian  had  failed  to  re 
store  it,  there  having  been,  as  the  reader  knows,  no  love 
lost  between  the  two  rascals. 

Having  placed  the  dead  body  among  the  bushes  in  a 
little  hollow,  Pawnee  Brown  climbed  out  of  the  ravine 
again  and  rejoined  Nellie,  who  was  growing  impatient 
regarding  his  welfare.  The  story  of  what  had  hap 
pened  to  Yellow  Elk  was  soon  told,  the  scout  softening 
out  the  ghastly  details.  Then,  to  change  the  subject,  he 
asked  her  if  she  knew  her  uncle  was  a  prisoner  of  the 
soldiers. 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "Oh,  sir,  what  will  they  do  with 
him?" 


THE   LAST  OF  THE  YELLOW   ELK  223 

"I  don't  believe  they  can  do  much,  Nellie,"  he  an 
swered.  "According  to  the  news  from  Washington, 
everything  is  to  be  smoothed  out,  and  of  course  the 
government  will  have  no  case  against  any  of  us." 

"Can  I  get  to  my  uncle  from  here?    Where  is  he?" 

"About  five  miles  from  here.  Yes,  we  can  get  to  hjm 
if  we  want  to."  Pawnee  Brown  mused  for  a  moment. 
"I'll  risk  it,"  he  said,  half  aloud.  "They  can't  arrest 
me  for  coming  to  expose  a  criminal,  and  I  have  the 
facts  right  here  in  my  pocket." 

A  moment  later  he  was  riding  the  horse  Yellow  Elk 
had  stolen,  while  Nellie  was  seated  upon  Bonnie  Bird. 
In  this  manner  they  struck  out  for  the  agency,  called 
by  the  soldiers  a  fort. 

About  three  miles  had  been  covered,  when  suddenly 
there  came  a  shout  from  a  thicket  to  one  side  of  them. 

"The  cavalry !"  gasped  Nellie.    "What  shall  we  do?" 

"Take  it  coolly,  Nellie.  I  have  a  winning  card  this 
trip,"  smiled  the  great  scout. 

A  few  seconds  later  half  a  dozen  fine  looking  men 
rode  forward,  a  well-known  official  of  the  Indian  Ter 
ritory  at  their  head. 

"Pawnee  Brown!"  ejaculated  the  official,  on  recog 
nizing  the  scout.  "It  would  seem  we  had  made  quite  a 
capture.  What  are  you  doing  with  Sergeant  Morris' 
horse?" 


224  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

"Is  this  the  animal?" 

"It  is. 

"I  found  him  in  the  possession  of  a  run-away  Indian, 
Yellow  Elk.  If  he  is  your  property  you  are  welcome 
to  him/'  and  Pawnee  Brown  leaped  to  the  ground. 

"Humph !  That  is  all  right,  but  what  are  you  doing 
here  ?  Don't  you  know  you  are  on  forbidden  ground  ?" 

The  scout's  coolness  was  a  great  surprise  to  the 
official. 

UI  would  be — under  ordinary  circumstances,  sir. 
But  just  now  I  am  on  a  mission  to  the  agency :  a  mis 
sion  I  am  convinced  you  will  not  attempt  to  hinder." 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  wish  to  expose  a  great  criminal,  a  man  who  is  now 
in  the  active  service  of  the  United  States,  although  he 
ought  to  be  in  prison  or  on  the  gallows." 

The  official  was  much  surprised. 

"I  would  like  to  know  some  of  the  particulars, 
Pawnee." 

"Are  you  bound  for  the  agency  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  we  will  go  together,  and  you  can  see  what 
takes  place.  It  will  probably  be  well  worth  your 
while." 

"This  is  no  trick — I  know  you  are  itching  to  get  into 
Oklahoma." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  YELLOW  ELK  225 

"I  will  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  sir.  I  have  re 
ceived  word  from  Washington,  and  I  feel  certain  that 
ere  long  this  whole  matter  will  be  settled  to  our  mutual 
satisfaction.  In  the  meantime,  booming  can  wait,"  and 
Pawnee  Brown  smiled  in  a  quiet  way. 

A  few  words  more  followed,  and  Nellie  was  intro 
duced.  Then  the  whole  party  set  off  on  a  gallop  for  the 
agency,  where  was  to  be  enacted  the  last  scene  in  this 
little  drama  of  the  southwest. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

CLEARING  UP  A  MYSTERY — CONCLUSION. 

As  Vorlange  uttered  his  dire  threat  into  Dick's  ear, 
the  boy  turned  pale  and  staggered  against  the  wall  of 
his  prison. 

"Wot's  that  yer  sayin'?"  demanded  Jack  Rasco,  who 
plainly  saw  the  changed  look  upon  his  companion's  fea 
tures. 

"It  is  none  of  your  business,  Rasco,"  muttered  the 
spy.  "I  told  the  boy ;  that's  enough." 

Dick  breathed  hard.  Part  of  that  mystery  of  the  past 
was  out  at  last.  His  father  was  accused  of  murder — 
Vorlange  held  the  evidence  against  him.  Like  a  flash 
came  back  to  him  several  things  he  had  almost  for 
gotten.  He  remembered  how  on  more  than  one  occa 
sion  his  father  had  sent  money  to  the  West  after  a  let 
ter  had  come  which  had  upset  him  greatly.  That  must 
have  been  hush  money,  to  keep  this  rascal  quiet. 

"I — I — do  not  believe  you !"  he  cried  in  a  faint  tone. 
"My  father  is  as  upright  as  any  gentleman  in  the  land." 

"Is  he?"  sneered  Vorlange.  "All  right,  if  you  think 
so,  just  drive  me  to  the  wall  and  see." 

(226) 


CLEARING  UP  A  MYSTERY — CONCLUSION          22? 

"Where  was  this  crime  committed?" 

"In  Creede,  Colorado — at  the  time  the  camp  was 
started." 

"Who  was  killed?" 

"A  miner  named  Rickwell.  He  was  once  a  partner 
of  a  man  named  Burch,  of  whom  you  have  no  doubt 
heard  ere  this." 

"Yes,  Burch  left  us  the  property  you  know  all  about, 
since  you  stole  the  deeds  to  it.  Louis  Vorlange,  you 
are  playing  a  deep  part  but  you  cannot  make  me  swal 
low  your  statements  about  my  father." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  expose  him?" 

"We'll  see  about  that  later.  Rasco  and  I  will  cer 
tainly  try  to  show  you  up  for  what  you  really  are." 

"Very  well,"  blustered  Vorlange.  "Your  father  is  a 
murderer,  and  he  shall  swing  for  it — unless  you  keep 
your  mouth  shut.  I — — " 

Footsteps  outside  of  the  prison  interrupted  Louis 
Vorlange.  An  instant  later  Pawnee  Brown  and  half 
a  dozen  others  stepped  inside  of  the  apartment. 

"Pawnee  Brown !"  cried  Dick  and  Rasco  together. 

"Are  you  a  prisoner,  too?"  continued  the  boy. 

"Hardly,"  smiled  the  great  scout.  Then  he  noticed 
Vorlange.  "Just  the  men  we  are  after." 

"Me?"  ejaculated  the  spy. 

"Yes,  you." 


228  THE  BOY   LAND   BOOMER 

"What  do  you  want  of  me,  Pawnee  Brown  ?  I  want 
nothing  to  do  with  such  as  you — a  thieving,  low-down 
boomer — who — oh !" 

Vorlange  ended  with  a  yell,  for  Pawnee  Brown  had 
caught  him  by  the  ear  and  almost  jerked  him  off  his 
feet. 

"Letup!    Letup!    Oh!" 

"Now  keep  quiet  Vorlange,"  said  the  scout  sternly. 
"You  can  thank  your  stars  that  I  didn't  put  a  bullet 
through  you  for  letting  your  tongue  run  so  loosely." 

"Thet's  so,  b'gosh,"  was  Rasco's  comment.  "But 
say,  Pawnee,  he's  a  reg'lar  snake  in  the  grass." 

"I  know  it."  Pawnee  Brown  looked  at  Dick.  "Has 
he  been  threatening  you,  lad  ?" 

"Yes ;  threatened  me  and  my  father,  too." 

"Have  no  fear  of  him,  Dick.  Louis  Vorlange,  you 
have  about  reached  the  end  of  your  rope." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  and  the  spy's  lips  quivered  as 
he  spoke. 

"I  mean  that  I  am  here  to  expose  you."  Pawnee 
Brown  turned  to  the  others  who  had  come  in.  "Gen 
tlemen,  let  me  introduce  to  you  Louis  Vorlange,  alias 
Captain  Mull,  once  of  Creede,  Colorado." 

"Captain  Mull !"  exclaimed  several.  "Do  you  mean 
the  Captain  Mull  that  was  wanted  for  several  shady 
doings,  Pawnee?" 


CLEARING  UP  A  MYSTERY — CONCLUSION  22Q 

'The  same  Captain  Mull,  gentlemen  " 

"It  is  a — a  lie!"  screamed  Louis  Vorlange,  but  his 
looks  belied  him. 

"It  is  the  truth,  gentlemen,  he  is  the  man  who  once 
sported  under  the  name  of  Captain  Mull.  But  that  is 
not  all." 

"What  else,  Pawnee?" 

"Some  years  ago  a  man  by  the  name  of  Andrew 
Rickwell  was  murdered  in  the  Last  Chance  hotel  at 
Creede.  At  that  time  Creede  was  but  a  small  place  and 
Captain  Mull  ran  the  hotel.  Who  murdered  Rickwell 
was  not  discovered.  But  he  had  occupied  a  room  with 
another  man,  a  mining  agent  from  New  York  named 
Mortimer  Arbuckle,  the  father  of  this  lad  here,  and 
some  thought  Arbuckle  had  done  the  foul  deed,  and  he 
had  to  run  away  to  escape  the  fury  of  a  mob.  The 
horror  of  this  occurrence  unbalanced  the  man's  mind 
and  to  this  day  he  sometimes  thinks  he  may  be  guilty. 
But  he  is  innocent." 

"He  is  guilty!"  shrieked  Louis  Vorlange.  "I  saw 
him  do  the  deed!" 

"I  see  you  acknowledge  you  were  in  Creede  at  that 
time,"  answered  Pawnee  Bill,  and  Vorlange  staggered 
back  over  the  bad  break  he  had  made.  "As  I  said, 
Mortimer  Arbuckle  is  innocent.  There  is  the  murderer, 
and  here  are  the  documents  to  prove  it — and  to  prove 


23O  THE  BOY   LAND  BOOMER 

more — that  Vorlange  is  a  thief,  that  he  assaulted  Mor 
timer  Arbuckle  in  the  dark  and  left  him  for  dead,  and 
that  he  is  now  acting  against  the  best  interests  of  the 
United  States  government." 

As  Pawnee  Brown  ended  he  pointed  at  Vorlange, 
and  held  aloft  the  packet  he  had  taken  from  Yellow 
Elk. 

"My  father's  documents !"  cried  Dick. 

'The  letters!"  shrieked  Louis  Vorlange.  Then  he 
made  a  sudden  leap  to  secure  them,  but  Pawnee  Brown 
was  too  quick  for  him.  The  scout  turned  to  the  captain 
of  cavalry  standing  near. 

"You  had  better  arrest  him  before  he  tries  to  es 
cape." 

"They  shall  not  arrest  me!"  came  from  Louis  Vor- 
lange's  set  lips.  Clear  the  way!" 

Like  a  flash  his  pistol  came  up  and  he  fired  into  the 
crowd,  which  parted  in  surprise  and  let  him  pass.  But 
not  more  than  ten  steps  were  covered  when  Pawnee 
Brown  caught  him  by  the  arm  and  threw  him  headlong 
to  the  ground.  At  the  same  time  the  prison  sentry 
fired,  and  Vorlange  was  mortally  wounded  in  the  side. 

"I'll  not  forget  you!"  he  cried  to  Pawnee  Brown. 
"But  for  you  I  would  have  lived  in  clover  the  balance 
of  my  life !"  Then  he  fell  into  a  faint  from  which  he 
recovered  presently,  to  linger  for  several  days  in  terri 
ble  anguish,  dying  at  last  in  convulsions. 


CLEARING    UP    A    MYSTERY — CONCLUSION          23! 

With  the  death  of  Vorlange  we  bring  our  story  to  a 
close.  By  what  was  said  during  the  man's  last  hours 
on  earth,  Mortimer  Arbuckle  was  entirely  cleared  of 
the  cloud  which  had  hung  over  his  honorable  name. 
Soon  after  this  his  right  mind  came  back  to  him  and 
today  he  is  as  well  and  happy  as  it  is  possible  to 
imagine. 

Whatever  became  of  Stillwater  and  Juan  Donomez 
is  not  known. 

With  the  truce  declared  by  the  actions  of  the  author 
ities  at  Washington  and  the  word  given  by  Pawnee 
Brown  that  no  attempt  should  be  made  to  enter  Okla 
homa  for  the  present,  it  was  not  deemed  advisable  to 
hold  either  Dick  or  Rasco  longer,  and  the  two  were 
given  their  freedom,  to  journey  at  once  to  Honnewell, 
in  company  with  the  great  scout  and  Nellie  Winthrop. 

From  Honnewell,  Dick  rode  post  haste  to  carry  the 
glad  news  to  his  father.  A  scene  followed  which  no 
pen  can  describe,  a  scene  so  sacred  to  the  two  it  must 
be  left  entirely  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader.  Never 
was  a  man  more  proud  of  his  son  than  was  Mortimer 
Arbuckle  of  Dick,  or  more  grateful  than  was  the  mine- 
owner  to  Pawnee  Brown  for  his  courageous  arid  mar 
velous  work  in  clearing  up  the  mystery. 

"He  is  a  man  among  men,"  he  said.  "God  bless 
him!" 


232  THE   BOY    LAND   BOOMER 

Nellie  Winthrop  was  overjoyed  to  be  with  her  uncle 
once  again,  and  took  good  care  that  nothing  should 
separate  them.  As  for  Jack,  he  guarded  her  with  a 
care  which  could  not  be  exceeded. 

"Ef  they  carry  her  off  again  it  will  be  over  my  dead 
body,  b'gosh,"  he  murmured  more  than  once. 

And  yet  Nellie  was  carried  off  four  years  later.  But 
this  time  the  carrying  off  was  done  by  Dick  Arbuckle, 
and  both  Nellie  and  Jack  were  perfectly  willing.  The 
wedding  was  a  grand  one,  for  the  Colorado  claims  had 
panned  out  big  for  the  Arbuckles,  and  the  best  man  at 
the  affair  was  Pawnee  Brown. 

In  due  course  of  time  the  bill  concerning  Oklahoma 
was  passed  by  the  United  States  Senate  and  signed  by 
the  President.  This  was  followed  by  a  grand  rush 
of  the  boomers  to  get  the  best  of  the  land  granted  to 
them.  The  advance  was  led  by  Pawnee  Brown,  who, 
riding  his  ever  faithful  Bonnie  Bird,  covered  twenty 
miles  in  the  short  space  of  sixty-five  minutes  and  locat 
ed  his  town  site  at  the  mouth  of  Big  Turkey  Creek. 
This  town  site,  along  with  his  other  Oklahoma  posses 
sions,  made  the  great  scout  a  rich  man.  He  never 
grows  weary  of  telling  about  this  great  rush  into  Okla 
homa.  "It  was  grand,  awe-inspiring,"  he  says.  "I 
would  go  a  thousand  miles  to  see  it  again — those  hun 
dreds  of  wagons,  thousands  of  horsemen  and  heads 


CLEARING   UP  A   MYSTERY — CONCLUSION  233 

of  cattle,  all  going  southward,  over  hills,  through  for 
ests,  crossing  brooks  and  rivers — all  bound  for  the 
land  which  has  since  made  them  so  prosperous  and 
happy." 

And  here  let  us  take  leave  of  Dick  Arbuckle,  Pawnee 
Brown,  and  all  their  friends,  wishing  them  well. 


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